#i always have plans to draw one of my ships and then end up forgetting them in favour of something else completely different

[reineydraws]

thinking about the panels where robin jason is mostly made of cape!!! precious baby. tiny bean. absolutely adorable. ✨️✨️✨️

[honeysimagines]

home

pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

plot: at a get together after the mission the dagger squad finds out some things about Rooster, causing Maverick to step up and try and help…

warnings: drinking, references to parental death and past trauma

notes: for K ♡︎, thank you for letting me bother you with this for weeks

words: 7k

It was a bittersweet evening at The Hard Deck but they tried to not let it show. After the successful mission it was time to dismantle their little ragtag group of pilots and for everybody to head back to their former assignments. Sadly Fritz had to fly out in the early afternoon but the rest of the pilots and backseaters had descended upon the bar and shuffled some tables around with Penny’s permission to make a large circle where everybody found a place for at least the next few hours.

It felt good to be back on solid ground. While being in the air was one of the best feelings in Rooster’s mind he was glad to be off the ship again. With the old jukebox playing music and the patrons of the bar talking and laughing together it was a little easier to forget about the events that happened just a few days prior.

“You guys are lucky,” Harvard pointed out after everybody except Bob was a few drinks in, “at least you guys get a few weeks leave.” The other aviators knew it wasn’t coming from a place of malice, had they been in the place of the aviators that didn’t fly the mission they’d probably think exactly the same way. Everybody craved the comfort of home while deployed.

“Yeah,” Omaha added, “Leave would be nice. I wish I could head home, see family. My sister had a baby months ago, never even met the kid and he’s already crawling.”

“Maybe Mav can put in a nice word with the commander. Make it so everybody can go home faster.” Rooster said after taking a drink of his beer, “Although with him there’s always a chance we’d end up shipped out overseas for a few months.”

A few nods and words of agreement greeted Maverick as he made his way back to the group after not so sneakily disappearing to the back of the bar with Penny earlier. At least he was smart enough to get a new beer so he could play it off as just getting another drink, even if none of the other aviators bought it. “What are we talking about?”

“Leave.”

The older man just took his place among his now former students, looking around. “That’s nice. What are everybody’s plans?”

Most of the others just answered with the basics. Going to see family, spending some time with their loved ones. Hangman wanted to use his time for a vacation and Rooster didn’t doubt that in a week there’d be pictures of Hangman’s abs at a beautiful tropical beach all over social media. At least that gave him time to prepare a witty joke he could send in the groupchat to roast the blond.

Realizing he was the only one of the lucky ones that hadn’t shared his plans, Rooster took another drink of his beer, finishing the bottle before putting it down on the table in front of him. “Don’t know yet. Probably going to spend some time catching up with Mav and after that head home to see the missus.”

Several heads whipped around to look at him with a speed that put fighter jets to shame. Rooster was sure he saw poor Bob get whipped in the face by Phoenix’ ponytail hard enough for his glasses to become crooked on his face.

“The what now?!” Multiple voices said loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons but the group skillfully avoided paying attention to them.

Hangman let out a fake cough to hide his reaction but he couldn’t hide the curiosity in his voice as he spoke. “Didn’t know you were married, Rooster.”

“Congrats.” Mavericks' voice tore him out of his thoughts about how Hangman had no reason to know his relationship status. His godfather looked at him with a certain sadness in his eyes that made Rooster mad for a split second before he reminded himself that they were working on mending their relationship and a missed wedding might have been another thing to add to the list of life events they didn’t share like they should have.

“I’m not married.” He paused, trying to find the right words to describe what the two of you were. “It’s an… inside joke with an old friend.”

“Oh that’s-”

“I thought about asking her once but… yeah no I’m not married.” He rambled on, unable to stop himself, almost forgetting about his fellow pilots as he looked at Maverick and the way his eyebrows knit up in confusion.

The rest of the group just looked at him before Halo slapped her knees before standing up, signaling she was ready to leave.

“And that’s our cue. Come on boys, let’s give the Daggers some privacy. You coming with, Coyote?”

“Nah, I’m Hangman’s ride. Can’t leave him with the bunch. He’d just say something to piss them off and they’d leave him here.”

It wasn’t a tearful goodbye but hugs and handshakes were exchanged alongside promises to stay in touch. But almost as soon as Halo led Omaha, Yale, and Harvard away from the table all heads turned to Rooster again. Great.

“Alright, spill!” Phoenix ordered. Bob behind her enthusiastically nodded his head to back his pilot up.

“Guys, maybe that’s not-”

“Ignore Maverick. Spill Rooster!” Hangman interrupted.

Sighing he looked at his empty beer on the table in front of him and wished he had a full one in its place. Or maybe a tall soft drink glass full of whiskey neat.

“Here.” Mav pushed over the beer he picked up earlier, opened but still full.

“There’s not much to talk about.” He tried to defend himself. “She’s a friend. A good friend.”

That wasn’t enough to satisfy the lot in front of him though. Phoenix was motioning for him to continue and part of him wished it was just her he was talking too. She had always been a good friend. A good person to talk to when he had the need to talk. Even if they rarely had the chance to just sit down and chat due to the nature of their work.

“Lives in the old house.” He continued in a low voice, hearing his godfather inhale sharply next to him.

“I wasn’t ready to let it go but I- I couldn’t stay there. Not alone. Not after mom died. So when I left and she needed a place to stay I told her she could have it. Tried to pay me rent for years but I don’t take it. If she didn’t stay there it would be empty anyways so why waste a perfectly good house, you know. I go back every few months and she keeps my shit around.”

He just focused on the bottle in front of him, thumbing away at the label as the stares of his friends bore holes into him.  

“That’s….nice.” The hesitant tone alone voided the words, he didn’t need to see the unsure face on top of it. He didn’t even want to imagine what the group was thinking of him at that moment. Revealing his tragic backstory in the middle of a bar.

“It’s not really home but it’s… it’s a homebase. Someplace to retreat to in case I’m back stateside.”

“And how long has this been going on?” Bob asked from behind Phoenix, confused, and Rooster was suddenly reminded of the years he had on them. Years because Mav held him back.

Years because he tried to protect you - a soft voice that sounded too much like his mother reminded him in the back of his head.

“Fifteen years? Give or take.” He mumbled.

“And how long have you been fucking her?” Three arms reached across the table to swat at Hangman for his question, Phoenix getting him in the arm hard enough for him to wince loudy.

“Fifteen years. Give or take.”

The only thing preventing an awkward moment of silence falling over the group was the fact that Fanboy choked on his beer hard enough that for the next few moments all the attention went to him, their group making sure that the WSO didn’t die. It didn’t prevent an awkward pause that followed after though. It was heavy, only interrupted by muffled coughing.

“Wasn’t expecting that to be completely honest.” Hangman said after everybody had mostly calmed down. When Rooster looked over to him he saw that the usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be found on Hangman’s face and for the first time in his life he wished the other man would make fun of him. Look at him with something more than blank surprise or maybe thinly veiled pity.

“Fifteen years is a pretty long relationship to have, Rooster. Even if you’re not married, that's still impressive.” Coyote tried to be uplifting, smiling at him across the table.

“We’re not dating either. Told you she’s just a friend.”

“But you’re fucking?” Hangman asked.

“Whenever I go back. Unless she’s in a relationship at the time which hasn’t really happened yet because she doesn’t really date but most of the time, yeah.”

Across the table Payback raised his beer to him before taking a sip. “I mean… friends with benefits isn’t bad. Me and my wife started out as fuckbuddies before I grew the balls to ask her out for real.”

A few of the guys around the table nodded in agreement while Phoenix rolled her eyes hard enough that Rooster was worried they’d get stuck, but nobody added on to what Payback said.

Another few moments of silence followed before Bob spoke up, all eyes on the quiet WSO. “So let me get this straight. You and this woman have been on again off again fuckbuddies for the past fifteen years. She lives in your house. You nearly asked her to marry you….. and you still insist that she is just a friend?”

It came out rather harsh and nobody really knew how to react, least of all Rooster. Nodding, he took another drink of his beer, breaking eye contact with Bob.

Pushing his chair back from the table Bob moved to get up from their table. “Jesus fuck I need a drink.”

“Bob, you don’t drink.” Phoenix pushed her chair back too, quick to back up her backseater.

“I’m starting now.”  

Six pairs of eyes watched as the two walked over to the bar but the men soon found themselves returning their attention back to the conversation.

“That’s a long time to pine over somebody, Rooster.” Fanboy chimed in, the pilots around the table nodding in agreement.

Before he could defend himself that he wasn’t pining, Hangman decided to speak up again.

“Jesus dude I know you like to wait things out but that’s long even for you.” Putting his arm around his shoulder he continued, “Gonna make your move when you get back? You’re a hero now Rooster, that gets the girls hot. No way she’ll say no.”

Without looking at the other man Rooster just shook off his arm, not taking his eyes off the bottle in front of him. Half the label was missing at this point but scratching at it kept his hands busy at least. “She’s just a friend, Bagman. Just a friend.”

Before any of the others could comment on it, Bob and Phoenix made their way back over to the group, letting themselves fall into the seats they had abandoned before. Their little comeback thankfully drew the attention to them and off Rooster, something he really appreciated. Judging by the way Bob was looking, his first drink didn’t go over all that smoothly.

“How’d he do Phoenix?” Mav teased.

“Went straight for the tequila. I tried to tell him he should start out with a beer but noooo.” She drew out the vowel, interrupted herself with a short giggle, before continuing, “Doubleshot of the cheapest tequila Penny had, didn’t even pull a face.” Phoenix bragged while giving Bob an encouraging pat on the back as he kept quiet. She turned to Hangman, sizing him up before adding. “You can ask Penny if you don’t believe me, Bagman.”

“Nah screw that.” Hangman replied, jumping up in his seat and leaning across the table to get closer to Bob, and Rooster was glad that they seemed to have found a new topic to latch onto. “First time and he went straight for the kill. Atta boy Bobby. Mister B.O.B.”  

Most people around the table joined in with Hangman who continued to go on and on like usual while Rooster just went back to focusing on the bottle in front of him. He continued to thumb at the label, using the nail to push the paper back little by little. Almost everybody had stopped paying attention to him but he could feel Maverick’s gaze burn into the side of his head. He just hoped the older man would let it go.

Maverick did not let it go.

Two days after the night at The Hard Deck he was pounding on the door of Rooster’s room until he had no other choice but to roll out of bed. Stumbling his way to the door with half closed eyes he cursed as he walked straight into a table, a hand coming up to rub over his thigh while the other one pulled open his front door.

“What?” The words came out harder than he intended but the other man didn’t react, instead pushing past him into the room.

“Great, you’re up. Come on get dressed, we need to leave soon.”

“It’s like…” He picked up his phone from the nightstand, dropping it onto the bed after he saw the time. “6 in the goddamn morning. Why are you waking me up at 6am on my day off, Mav?”

“I want to show you something but we need to hit the road soon unless you want it to become an overnight trip. So go and get ready.” Maverick picked up a shirt he had thrown over a chair a day or two ago and threw it at Rooster, catching him off guard enough for it to hit him square in the face.

Knowing full well he couldn’t escape this trip Rooster just sighed and gathered his things so he could get ready. Hurrying through the process of getting ready until he was standing back in his room, silently looking at Mav while the older man looked at the pictures Rooster had taped up next to his bed.

Most of his memories were kept in his phone nowadays but he still liked to keep a few  physical pictures with him on deployment. An old strip from a photobooth the two of you had squeezed yourself into, you perched on his lap with his arms wrapped around your middle while you made faces into the camera right next to the picture of his parents with their arms around each other. Maverick was focused on the third picture that was taped up though, their last family picture from before the accident. It had been hard to bend the picture in a way that properly hid Mav since they were all crowded together, Mom and Dad and Mav with little Rooster in the middle. He didn’t regret not tearing it apart in a fit of anger though. Instead he had taken it down after the mission, carefully straightened out the picture until Maverick was no longer hidden behind the back of the picture and next to them again, before putting it back up with their family reunited.

Rooster watched as he reached out and trailed a finger across the crease. It felt like he was interrupting a moment so he just stood still for a few more seconds, giving Maverick a little bit more time. When the other man turned around he didn’t seem surprised to see Rooster standing in the middle of his room though, a small smile growing on his face.

“Ready to go, kid?”

“Yeah.” He replied, waiting for Mav to bring up the pictures or where they were going but nothing came in response.

“Great.” Maverick stepped past him, hand coming up to give his shoulder a firm pat. “We’re taking your Bronco.”

It wasn’t until they were out of San Diego and making their way down a highway out east that Maverick opened up a little. He had been designated to the passenger side, left to peruse through the handful of cassette tapes in the glove box and play navigator while Rooster drove.

“Good selection.”

Out of the corner of his eyes Rooster could see the older man’s hands stopping once he came across a familiar mixtape, his own illegible handwriting staring back at him. He had played the tape over the years, knew the songs by heart even. But he still wasn’t able to read the writing. Your daddy had the nicest handwriting - his mother used to tell him - always filling out paperwork for Maverick. It wasn’t until he was older that he understood why his mother continued to do the same after his father’s death. A small act of kindness towards the poor soul that had to deal with Maverick Mitchell, saving at least a little bit of their sanity by shielding them from his terrible chicken scratch. Mav could write legibly when he cared, Rooster had a shoebox full of cards and letters at the old house that proved this, but he never really cared for paperwork.

Still focusing most of his attention on the road in front of them, Rooster saw the older man opening the case and carefully putting it into the correct slot on the old car. It took a moment for it to start but he smiled as the intro to Danger Zone began playing. Mav was nodding his head along the rhythm and Rooster could feel himself being overcome by some kind of nostalgic sorrow.

He was young when his father died. Too young. That wasn’t something he ever tried or was able to hide. But he tried his hardest to shield the ones around him from the full truth and maybe lie to himself a little. Nick Bradshaw had been a good man and he deserved to be remembered as such by his loved ones. Which just caused his limited memories of his dad to be all the more painful. No matter how hard Rooster tried to find new memories hidden away in a far corner of his brain he was stuck with a handful of amazing but painful ones.

It must have been mere days before the accident. His mom was somewhere, he didn’t quite know where, but his dad and his uncle Mav were with him. He remembered that the radio was blasting Danger Zone and that the adults had been singing along. They had all jumped across the room wildly and his uncle had picked him up only to collapse onto a couch or bench or something similar towards the end of the song.

After their falling out it had taken him years until he could listen to the song again without getting overwhelmed by emotions. But sitting here now, side by side with the man he tried to hate for years, all that heaviness he’d been carrying around with himself seemed to lift. It would never be like that one carefree summer afternoon in San Diego again but Rooster was certain that they could work towards mending their relationship again and he looked forward to it.

They had been driving for hours and Rooster was starting to get tired of the scenery. While he appreciated the desert as a beautiful place in theory after driving through it for a while it started to become too monotonous for him. They had stopped at a diner in a small town around eleven and eaten what would probably be considered brunch although there was a distinct lack of mimosas. He had filled the tank while Mav picked up some things from a nearby store and they were on the road again before noon.

“There’s a dirt road up ahead, on the left side. No street sign but you’ll see it.”

It was easy to follow his directions, pulling the Bronco into the street and making their way down the road. He could see a building up ahead, far enough removed from the main road to not be visible to passing cars but now that they were on the smaller dirt road Rooster was able to see that they were heading straight towards it.

An airplane hangar. Maverick had taken him to an airplane hangar. In the middle of the damn Mojave.

He slowed down the car once they got close enough, coming to a stop near the access doors but off to the side so he wouldn’t block the runway. If it involved Mav and a hangar there would definitely be planes around and he didn’t want to be in the way.

“Remember the thing you talked about last time at The Hard Deck?” Maverick said, hopping out of the car and Rooster had to suppress a laugh at the sight before he exited the Bronco too.

He watched as Maverick walked over to the middle of the hangar and raised his voice a little so that the older man could hear him even as he walked away. “What thing? I talked about a lot of things.”

“About the old house and it being your homebase.” Maverick was fiddling around with the chain that hung in the middle of the giant doors but Rooster couldn’t see what exactly he was doing, even as he walked closer.

“Well….” The chain rattled as it fell to the ground but Mav picked it up before giving each side of the heavy doors a push. “Welcome to my homebase.” Maverick said before slipping through the gap in the door and disappearing into the darkness.

Homebase. The stupid word echoed in his mind as he hesitated to follow the older man into the hangar. He had said that, hadn’t he? Downplayed the significance of you, your home… his home. Expressing his feelings had never been his strong suit but part of him didn’t regret his selfish choice of words. He trusted the daggers with his life but he didn’t want to share your relationship with them, not when he wasn’t sure of things himself.

He couldn’t bare himself to them in such a manner. Not when he still struggled to come to terms with things himself.

Trying to shake those thoughts he followed after Mav. The inside of the hangar was significantly darker than the outside even with the slight opening in the doors letting in light and his eyes needed a moment to adjust before he could see but when they did he looked around the large space in awe.

Rooster knew that the older man had an affinity for all things speed -bikes and planes, even the occasional sports car- but looking around he was surprised by how many machines he could see. Just from a first glance he counted at least 15, half of which he somewhat remembered from his childhood, as well as an old P-51 and… random furniture placed in front of a trailer?

“What-” He started but didn’t finish his sentence. What would he even ask? What is this place? Homebase. Mav had already said that.

He looked around again, trying to find Maverick between the machines.

“Go sit down.”

He nearly jumped at the sound of Mav’s voice echoing through the hanger. He hadn’t seen or heard him coming at all.

“I’ll go get the bags from the car but you go sit. Or go look around. Make yourself at home. Just don’t touch anything.”

The way he said it sounded like an adult warning a small child. Don’t touch anything, you could get hurt. And for a second Rooster thought about all the years he had spent with Maverick and his machines. How they had fixed up old bikes and Mav had patiently explained what every tiny screw does before ruffling his hair and telling him good job buddy for handing him a wrench. How he had helped Rooster get all his licenses from bikes to cars to planes and then let him take out some of the machines for joyrides or to impress girls at his high school. How he knew what he was doing and if he wanted to he could touch because he knew not to get hurt. Because he’s not a kid anymore. Because Mav taught him how not to get hurt.

But instead he kept quiet and looked around.

Rooster spent a while looking at the P-51. That thing must have cost a fortune even if it was old and Mav did the repairs himself. It was a gorgeous plane though and he hoped that he could convince his godfather to take him up with it soon.

The row of bikes felt so familiar it hurt but he still ran his fingers over the polished metal with care. All neatly lined up along the side of the hangar.

When he was younger Mav kept a locker covered in stickers in their garage. He still had the same locker now in the hangar and the collection of stickers had only grown. He used to go into the garage to look at them all the time when he was a child. Stickers of the different squadrons in all colors of the rainbow. He had them all memorized before he had memorized all 50 states. This one is where Ice flies -Maverick would point out- and this one is the squad that has to deal with Wolfman and Hollywood. They had gone through all the different symbols and pointed out when one of Mav’s friends flew with them.

As a kid he often wondered which squadron he would be assigned to, what insignia he would rep. He slowly raised a hand and ran his fingers over the Golden Warriors sticker at the side of the locker when something past the locker caught his eye.

Pictures upon pictures taped to the wall, familiar faces staring back at him. He could see pictures of Maverick and his parents as he stepped closer. Iceman. Their class at top gun.

Himself.

One of the pictures he knew. It was taken the day his high school baseball team had won a state championship and he remembered feeling like he was on top of the world. His mom had already been sick at that point but her prognosis had been good. Mav had been home from deployment and was able to bring his mom and together they had cheered loud enough that they could be heard across the entire pitch. Other teens would have felt embarrassed but Bradley had felt nothing but love. They had taken him out to eat afterwards and he had talked their ears off while stuffing his face with fries. His mother hadn’t even scolded him for talking with his mouth full. He had asked about the naval academy and if they had a baseball team and if Mav thought he should join. They’d all been so happy.

Not even a year later his mom was dead and Mav had pulled his papers and he had found himself on the other side of the continent completely alone.

Mav had another picture of him as well although he didn’t know where he got it. It was a newer one of him in his uniform, taken before the start of his last deployment. Ice, he answered his own unasked question. There was only one person that held enough rank and love for Maverick to get a hold of his picture.

He should have reached out sooner. If not to Mav then at least Iceman. Even in his stubbornness he had to admit that the late admiral had never treated him with anything but kindness and now it was too late to apologize.

“There you are.” Mav’s voice came from behind him and Rooster was proud that he didn’t flinch at the sudden noise. He had completely forgotten that he wasn’t alone in the hangar.

Instead of speaking immediately he took a deep breath and swallowed down his feelings. One step at a time. First he’d mend things with Mav for the future, then he’d ask for forgiveness for the past.

“Quite the collection you got here.” He said instead.

“Yeah?” He could see how the older man’s eyes lighted up at the mention of his machines. “I got more up here and a few more back there.” He turned around to point them out to Rooster, taking a few steps away from the side of the hangar.

“I’ve put the bikes on the backburner for a little bit to focus on the plane but as soon as I get it back up and running I have a few that need repairs. Maybe you could come and help me out a little. Like old times.” Mav smiled.

“That would be nice.”

He watched as Maverick walked over to the sitting area and followed. He disappeared into the trailer for a moment only to come out holding two bottles in his hands and gesturing for Rooster to sit. It was almost as if he had set up a little living room in the middle of the hangar. With an armchair and a couch, a small coffee table all on a big rug in front of the trailer. Wait…

“Mav do you fucking live here?”

Mav just gestured to the couch. “Sit down Bradley.”

It felt weird to be called Bradley again. For years he had only gone by Rooster or Bradshaw, building it up almost like a second identity or an armor. To him it felt like he had left Bradley behind years ago when he left home. Still, he sat down.

He looked at Mav.

Mav looked at him.

“Yes Bradley. I’ve been living in this hangar for the past few years while stationed at a nearby air base.” He finally said.

“In that trailer?”

Mav didn’t say anything, just nodded while looking at him.

He shifted a little where he sat on the couch, trying to avoid eye contact. “So you’re just all alone out here in the desert?”

“You know I’m used to being on my own, Bradley. No wife, no kids.”

Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.

He should have known that he would end up eating his words. No matter how much anger and distress he was feeling when he spoke them, no words were said without consequences and he was about to be faced with his.

He shifted in his seat again, still not meeting the older man’s eyes. “Mav, listen…”

“No. No.” Mav took a deep breath and let in out loud enough for him to hear it through the distance between them. “You were right.”

Another silence fell over them, this one weighing heavier on him than the ones before.

“I fear we’re a lot more similar than either of us would like to admit.”

It sounded less than a statement and more like a confession or maybe even a little bit of an apology. Like it pained Maverick to admit it and he had to force himself to say them. As if it had been a shortcoming on his end that had made them this way and not just the universe playing a cruel joke.

“There are… a lot of things we need to talk about and a lot of things I need to apologize for but not now. We have all the time in the world to talk things out but that’s not why I brought you here.”

“Then why did you?” His own voice sounded strange to him but he couldn’t figure out why. His thoughts were racing but at the same time his mind felt emptier than ever.

“I don’t want you to repeat the same mistakes I made.”

“Mav…”

“People like us belong in the sky and when something comes along to threaten that things turn ugly. You think there’s nothing worse than having that freedom taken away from you but there is. Because we can’t… we can’t stay up there forever, Bradley, no matter how hard we try. Once that’s taken away you have to look around and see what’s waiting for you on the ground. And when you see there’s nothing waiting for you… That’s scary, kid.”

Although he understood every word coming out of Maverick’s mouth he couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“You’re allowed to put down roots without them chaining you to the ground. You’re allowed to build a home and a family without fear holding you back.”

And all of a sudden his words began to make sense.

No wife. No kids.

Just like him.

Somebody to mourn him if he burns in.

“I don’t think…”

“Don't think. Just do.”

That damn sentence had burrowed itself into his mind. Nested itself deep enough in his subconscious that there was no way he’d ever get rid of it again and Maverick repeating them now did nothing to soften the blow he felt.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Such a simple question. Such a simple answer. Yet it felt like he had to force himself to admit it. “Yes.”

“Then tell her.”

Sometimes home wasn’t a place but a person but there had to be some incredible luck involved for the two to overlap for him.

For years he had felt a certain type of sadness while driving up to his childhood home, reminiscing about all he’s lost, but as he pulled his Bronco into the little driveway all he could think about was what he was about to gain. His stomach was twisting and turning in anticipation.

Part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing, finally confessing to you. The friendship you had built over the span of more than one decade was too important and he didn’t want to mess it up. It had been easier when he was young and stupid and fell into bed with you the first time without consideration but now your time together weighted on him. He hesitated before exiting the car, mentally going over everything he wanted to say and repeating the words Mav had told him before sending him on his way.

She wouldn’t have waited fifteen years for you to get your act together if she wasn’t head over heels in love with you too.

Oh how he hoped that Maverick was right.

Taking one last deep breath he opened the door and got out, throwing it closed behind him. You had planted some new flowers in the front yard. Last time he had been here he was greeted by soft yellow flowers but now all he could see was a beautiful red. Granted it had been a few months since he last came by but he still felt a slight sting at the change. Not that it happened -he was glad that you actually felt at home in your house and comfortable enough to change the greenery- but the fact that he missed it. As he made his way towards the front door he thought about all the other things that could have changed since he saw you last. Did you get new pillows for the couch? Hung new pictures on the walls?

He had to search through his keys for a moment before he found the house key but as soon as he did he unlocked the door and stepped inside. There were noises coming from the tv in the living room and he had no problem imagining you curled up on the couch with a soft blanket and a mug held between your soft hands with one of your shows playing.

“Honey, I’m home!” He called out, hoping that you wouldn’t be able to hear the desperation in his voice and only the excitement.

Instead of a response he could only hear a crash coming from the living room and instantly became concerned. He couldn’t take more than two steps down the hallway though before you suddenly appeared at the other end of the small space. Messy hair and comfy clothes he didn’t have time to brace himself before you all but tackled him, clinging to his body while his arms came up to hold you up and against him.

Holding you in his arms again just made him feel so much more confident in his decision. His body still felt a little sore even a week after the mission but he’d never tell you out of fear that you would lessen your crushing embrace. The last thing he wanted right now was to be separated from you in any way. He could feel saying something against his shoulder but he couldn’t hear anything, the sound muffled by his shirt.

You must have realized that he wasn’t able to understand what you were saying because you pulled away a little so he could understand you better. “You’re home.” You almost whispered, voice airy and light and a big smile on your face. “Why are you home? You’re supposed to be overseas, why are you here? You always text me before you’re home or at least give me a call. Are you okay? What happened?”

He smiled as you took his hands between your hands, trying to see if he was hurt while rambling and he just couldn’t hold himself back any longer so he leaned down and finally, finally put his lips on yours in the softest, most loving kiss he could muster with the amount of desire running through his body. If he surprised you with his kiss you didn’t show it, instead your lips began to move against his, only for him to pull away once you try to deepen the kiss.

“I love you.”

The words didn’t feel foreign in his mouth even though it was the first time he said them for a long long time. He’s been running from his true feelings for as long as he could remember but now that he managed to spill them he couldn’t stop.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Realizing that he was still holding you up, he carefully lowered you down until there was solid ground underneath your feet. You looked so sweet just standing there and part of him just wanted to swoop you right up again. Instead he brought one of his hands up to cradle your face, carefully stroking his thumb over your cheek.

“Baby...” You started but stopped when his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

“I love you and I’m sorry.”

He could see your brows furrow in confusion so he continued.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was scared and it took me fifteen years to finally admit it but I love you. I love you and I’m not scared anymore and I’m yours… in any way that you’ll have me.” It was a blatant lie. He wasn’t just scared, he was absolutely terrified. Not just about his confession but also the future and the past and everything in between. But he needed to tell you how he felt so desperately.

Your hand touching his brought him back from his thoughts, cradling his hands while he cradled your face and a smile so wide he couldn’t focus.

When you spoke your voice was barely more than a whisper. “Oh you stupid man.”

For an awful drawn-out second he couldn’t breathe before your lips met his again and he felt whole again. Deepening the kiss all he could think about was how he was never letting go of you again.

Lieutenant Jakob Middlename Seresin enjoyed the simple things in life. A cold beer, a light breeze, and a beach full of attractive people were paradise on earth for him. After the recent mission all he wanted to do was lay back and relax before he had to head back out for deployment so when two of his old academy buddies talked about their new house in Hawai’i he invited himself to crash in their guest bedroom for two weeks and so far it had been nothing but pure bliss.

Taking a picture of his current view he sent it to his parents before pulling up the group chat Fanboy had made for everybody involved in the mission. He had missed about 50 messages but just from scrolling past them he picked up that Bob had sent a picture with his family and now everybody was roasting him for how out of character it seemed. Apparently there were flannel shirts and horses involved and Jake was just about to scroll back up to take a look himself so that he could join in the fun when a new message was sent to the group chat that caused him to drop his phone into the fine sand with a bitten off curse.

Rooster 🐓

getting hitched in vegas this wknd, be there or be square

txt Mav for details

Before he could fully process what he just read the chat was blowing up again. Text after texts came in expressing various degrees of excitement but Jake just read over Rooster’s text again before putting his phone away. With a sigh he brought his half-empty beer up to his lips and emptied the bottle before getting up to make his way back to the house.

It was only Wednesday so he still had a little time to enjoy his vacation before he had to head back to the mainland and he fully planned on enjoying it. He just needed to ask his friends where he could buy some gaudy Hawaiian shirts first. Maybe he’d even find some Vegas wedding appropriate ones.

He wouldn’t leave his wingman hanging.

[mrs-kodzuken]

Can I have a timeskip!Ushijima comfort fic? Like Ushi doesn't understand the concept of skinship like holding hands and hugs so he often shrugs off reader's attempts in skinships, which of course made reader feel sad ㅠㅠ

Thank you and have a nice day! <3

Understanding you ♡

Pairing: Aged up! Wakatoshi Ushijima x fem!reader

WC: 1.6k

Genre: slight angst to comfort/fluff

CW: fem!reader, inexperienced in relationships!Wakatoshi, slight angst from ushi :( , fluff and comfort all in the end :)) , maybe some self deprecation from reader, best friends with tendou, communication is always key

note: thank you for requesting this! I hope it’s up to your expectations, sugar!! <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Being the girlfriend of the Wakatoshi Ushijima was something I didn’t expect would hurt this much. As his girlfriend, I understood the importance of volleyball since it quite literally is his career path. However, being in a relationship is a whole other aspect to think about.

There never really was anything that really stood out to me about his wrongdoings. He always made it to every dinner plan, he didn’t forget the classic month to month anniversaries, he seemed like he was just a gift from heaven.

I knew it was too good to be true when I realized we, or I, was severely lacking in the physical department of our relationship.

Ushijima and I never really got closer within touching or skin-ship distance. That really sucked for me and hurt my feelings since he aced every other aspect of our relationship, no pun intended.

I wasn’t sure if he was just uncomfortable with touching me or if he had some kind of weird feeling about touching me. However, with physical touch being my number one priority of love language I wasn’t sure how to go about telling him my feelings.

Giving Wakatoshi free rein to plan out his schedule, except for date nights, was a must. He is a grown man and I’m not his mother, but I always felt bad when there was something important, like this, to be talked about.

I couldn’t help but to bite my lip as I stared at our private text messages. His contact name, ‘Ushi baby’ stared right back at me whilst I tried to work up the courage to send a text.

Deciding against it, I threw my phone onto my bed and sighed loudly. He was at practice and had a game tomorrow so I didn’t want to bother him or cloud his mind with meaningless things like what I need to talk about.

I couldn’t help to wallow in my own pity. The clock on my white painted walls doing nothing but making the sound of ticking throughout my room which eventually annoyed me enough to leave.

It was around the time for Ushi’s practice to be over and I really wanted him to come over, I just didn’t know how everything would go.

Whenever we had first started dating I got introduced, and interviewed, by Wakatoshi’s best friend, Tendou. And now, Tendou was one of my closest friends so I decided to call the Chocolatier himself for support.

After the phone had rang for three seconds it picked up, “Hello! Hello!” the familiar voice sounded throughout my kitchen.

“Hey Ten! I am in need of advice and company.” I admitted due to the facetime call revealing his apron on with some stains of colors on it.

“Oh really?” He asked, drawing out the ‘really’.

“Yes, really. I need to talk to Wakatoshi, I’m just not sure how. Any ideas?”

“That depends on what you’re going to talk to him about. Saying the wrong thing could make him easily misunderstand what you mean and vice versa.” Tendou tried to poetically explain, as if I didn’t already know that.

“Yeah, thank you so much,” I rolled my eyes, “I’m feeling a bit.. lonely in our relationship lately. I need more physical affection from him and I’m not sure how to really bring it up because times that’s happened before.”

That little spill from me made memories pop up into my head of Ushijima rejecting my attempts for physical love.

I could only remember how he shrugged himself away from holding my hand or kissing me after I brought him a well-balanced lunch meal one day during practice.

I never felt more embarrassed or ashamed in my life. My own boyfriend rejected my advances to give him, and to receive love from him in front of his entire team.

It wasn’t the only time that that had happened. I tried doing it behind closed doors just in case he didn’t like publicly displaying affection. However, that didn’t work either when he moved away from me one night after being out to dinner.

From that point on it’s just been messaging, very little facetime, some phone calls, and occasionally visiting each other’s apartment. I wasn’t sure how to proceed with this, and I certainly didn’t think it was anywhere near enough to breaking up.

However, that doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt my feelings nor have been continuing to hurt them. Whether on purpose or not.

With Ushijima being a member of the Schweiden Adlers, I knew some of his teammates and occasionally talked with them about how my boyfriend was doing time to time.

However, I couldn’t help to not reach out to them within the last couple of weeks. I didn’t have the courage to confidently ask about him.

Tendou’s voice brought me back to where I needed to be, which was having this conversation to communicate my needs across to him.

“And since knowing him for a while helps my understanding, I think a simple conversation would do the trick. Honestly, I’m not sure why you called if you knew that too?” He questioned me, eyes peering dangerously close to mine through the tiny phone screen.

I bit my lip, “It’s just… he has a game tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin that by spouting dumb nonsense about how I’m not feeling this or that from him.”

Growing up, I’ve always considered other peoples thoughts, opinions, feelings before mine. It was just the kind of person I was, and now it hurts me the most when I need to express myself.

“Girl. Fuck that game.” He rolled his eyes at me.

“Yes Wakatoshi loves his career and it’ll always be there but you’re something in his life that can disappear at any moment. I think he’d want to know,” Tendou tried reasoning with my dumb logic as he pointed a wooden spoon in my direction.

I gave up. I knew in the back of my mind that Tendou was definitely right and I wasn’t but it was my own self that was keeping me from doing what I needed to do.

“Alright, I think I’ll ask him to come over tonight then.” I tried to say confidently after I made up my mind of what needed to be done.

“Great! When I’m in Tokyo next I’ll be sure to bring a little something for you and him.” Tendou winked at me before ending the facetime call.

That only left me to do one thing, text my boyfriend. I quickly sent him a text asking if it would be okay for him to come over after practice.

My nerves were all over the place as I waited for the tall, olive haired man to show up at my place.

Soon the door bell brought me out of my mind trance and when I opened the door I saw the one and only Ushijima.

“Hey Toshi, come in,” I widened the door after taking a good look at him.

It seemed like he came here right out of practice, he was still in his whole practice uniform. His usual stoic face didn’t change once I sat down on to my living room couch.

“Is something the matter, (Y/n)?” He bluntly asked, getting straight to the point with me.

I took a deep breath to prepare myself, “Yes, Toshi. There is something the matter. My feelings are hurt and have been hurt for a while due to the lack of physical touch in our relationship.” I paused for a moment to look over his face.

He seemed to be intently listening on every word I was saying which gave me the impression to keep going.

“I just want more skin ship with you like hugging, kissing, hang holding, or even just sitting beside you with arms touching. I feel deprived of that because you seem to always move away when I try to initiate it. Is there a reason or..?” I trailed off, finishing what I was saying and asking a question to see his side.

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way, (Y/n). I don’t understand the idea of that. It makes you feel more loved than usual?” He asked, trying to work around in his head of what I had mentioned.

“Well, yes. Without it I feel upset or rejected by you sometimes.” I hung my head low a bit, it was embarrassing having to discuss this. However, I was always one to get embarrassed or ashamed at anything I needed.

“I will try, for you.” He promised, his large hand reaching over to me and placing it on my knee. He was very warm and it traveled through my body.

I smiled a bit, “Thank you, I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

I scooted closer to him on the couch and he gave me his one million dollar small smile that I love. His arms wrapped around my shoulders whilst I hugged his torso. His lean but built, very built, body touched my soft one, I loved this feeling.

We stayed like that for a minute, nothing heard but the low volume of my living room TV and our breathing.

“Thank you, Toshi. I really appreciate that you’ll try for me.” I pulled away, already missing the hug but needing to say that to his face.

“Of course, love.” His hand came up to caress my face and I leaned into his touch.

The aching in my heart and body went away after discussing that with him. It was all just a bit miscommunication which was easily fixed after I expressed what I needed to.

I couldn’t be more content.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: I hope you enjoyed anon!! I’m terrible at writing for Ushijima but thank you for helping me extend the people I can write for :))

you all know my header rules, if not see pinned post!!

[zucest-week]

What are the rules for Zucest week?

The list I have on my mind is not really rules rules but guidelines and clarifications, but anyway, here you go anon.

1) Must contain Zucest. I think that much is obvious. It can be pining without relationship, it can be the process of establishing the relationship, it can take place during the relationship, it can be past Zucest after a nasty break up if you want some angst. Any type of Zucest, as long as it's there.

2) If somebody wants to, they can add a different side ship, but don't forget our main focus is Zucest. Fics that focus on different ships and toss Zucest to the sidelines will not be rebloged or associated with Zucest Week. Don't making a Maiko fic that happens to mention he fooled around with Azula once in the past.

3) Threesomes/Foursomes/Orgies are allowed. But it's essential that two out of the people in the gang bang will be Azula and Zuko and that they will be each other's primary focus. Zuko can have a harem, but Azula must be his favourite.

4) The threesomes/foursomes/orgies from "rule" number three can of course be incestuous. Let the Fire Family fuck their differences away, I don't mind. I won't be policing anyone's incest in this event, it's all about incest. But, as mentioned in rule three, Zuko and Azula must be each other's main focus. All fire family incest is glorious, but Zucest is the star of this show.

5) The following list of kinks had been deemed too sinful and disgusting for my tastes, so as the primary figure of morality of this world and as the center of the universe, I decided that anything containing the following kinks will not be associated with my event:

Literally, just do whatever the hell you want. I'm not kink police. It's fiction. We don't need kink police. Write whatever disgusting, sinful, twisted, illegal pornography you want. I'll still reblog it. This is an event for the people. I'm not restrict said people from having fun writing and reading whatever type of fic they want.

6) Smut is allowed and encouraged (Duh)

7) If for whatever reason, something happens, and you don't manage to post your work the day the drabble you used is meant for, that's okay. I'll still reblog even if it's one or two days late. If for some reason, you don't manage to complete all the works for the week, that's fine, I'll reblog as many as you've managed to post. If for some reason you complete a couple of works after the week is over, that's fine, I'll still reblog (I'll just need you to notify/tag me, because I won't go searching for fics in the tags after the week is over). I'll always reblog anything you guys write, at any time you write it.

8) Tag everything you post as "Zucest Week" or "Zucest Week 2024" or both. This helps everyone who's interested find your fic, and it helps me track it down and reblog it.

9) If, for whatever reason, you want to post works, but you don't want me to reblog them, let me now.

10) Some other event planners don't want the audience to suggest smutty prompts, because they don't want a day of the week to end up being filled with only smut prompt and force somebody to either write smut when they don't want to or not participate. Personally, I have found a different method to organize and select prompts, and that way I've managed to eliminate the possibilities of that happening, so write whatever prompt ideas you want, it's fine.

11) Yes, you can write a prompt idea even if you don't plan on writing. Not everyone is good at writing, and you don't have to write to participate to the event. You can also participate with drawings, poems, honorary posts or just by reading, enjoying and boosting fics of people that wrote something. And anyone who participates has the right to suggest a prompt.

Now, I got a couple of asks from a couple of anons asking for advice as to what they should do if they want to write for Zucest Week anonymously, so that they won't be associated with it and won't have to deal with the rage of some haters and antis. I get that not everyone is able to put up with that type of negativity. So this is how I can accommodate those people:

For Ao3

I recommend either publishing a fic as an anonymous author or publishing it normal and orphaning the work. In those cases, you won't be able to post your own fic on Tumblr without revealing your blog, so those people are free to send me an anon ask with a link for their anonymous/orphan work and I'll spread it around Tumblr for you. You can also privately message me and I'll spread around the work without revealing who wrote it and send it to me.

For Tumblr

If you write on Tumblr instead if Ao3, or if you write on both, but don't want to make a Tumblr post with your work to avoid the hate, you can type out the fic in an anon ask or a submission, and I'll reply to it with a simple dot/period/(.), so that it can be posted in the Zucest week blog without the author having to reveal their identity

For prompts

When I share the document for suggesting pronptsy, I'm certainly not monitoring who logs in to write something. So you can type out a prompt and still be anonymous, even to me.

[mhaynoot]

[ tw suicide , suicidal thoughts and intentions - orv spoilers - epilogue joongdok ]

yjh progressed so much and so far through 1863 regression turns not only to cut down the constellations and systems that made him suffer but also to find a way to either save the world or die permanently, whichever came first.

out of all the yjh and the regressions, the one who achieved that goal was the half slain by himself in the 1863rd round, the one who encapsulated all yjh's feelings of "i want to die".

the one that said "i want to live" was all that was left.

yjh remembers renouncing his regression status. his character trait.

"yoo joonghyuk, former regressor."

but he who hated his regression the most, who experienced suffering like no other because of it, chooses again to regress once more to save kdj. he tries not to think why but does anyway when the the scenario nights once again drag on long and agonising.

"are you sure?" people had asked right before the group regression. as if he would have ever brought it up as a suggestion if he hadn't been sure.

was he sure?

yjh closes his eyes.

he remembers renouncing his regressor status. he remembers delcaring not only that he will lived this round - this life - fully but that he will live solely for the ending in which kdj was an anomaly. he remembers kdj too. the little twist to his lips, the downcurved tilt, and his eyes, yjh was always reflected into his eyes. but they only saw him then. "I was twenty-eight, and I was an employee of a game company. my hobby was reading web novels…"

yjh remembers.

"yes, I'm sure."

but more than reliving the hellish nightmares of the scenarios once more, it only completely breaks him when regressing still fails-fails-fails-

(like kdj had told him over and over again)

two years passes by. time is supposed to ease grief. he should have moved on.

yjh breaks into the museum to grab the broken [final ark] with no real plan and fights hsy with his all so she could kill him because that's what he wanted. because yjh wants to fucking die and had tried everything from clutching a gaming mouse to training to talking endlessly with his teacher and sister but still- still he finds no purpose in life after the failed regression.

he imagines that guy yelling at him, calling him a sunfish.

even though he was free from the scenarios, free from the regression skill, can grow old normally with all his loved ones into a happily ever after. in a world surely and carefully forgetting the secnarios, erasing almost everything of that nightmare. today, the night sky is forever dark with only the glimmer of weakened constellations. yjh had saved the world and his companions and his sister and himself. it was everything he had ever wanted. everything that could have ever made him happy.

kim dokja, he grieves and grieves and grieves.

it is only the dumb blind faith and hope of a hacked brained plan that lets him live until he's shooting through space with a faint, infinitely burning wish.

and because of course nothing ever goes right, the ship breaks down and then everything else is breaking down and he's drifting through space in the vast loneliness and hollowness of his own dying stories.

1, 2, 10, 100, 333 days of drifting.

it is the kdj's story that revitalises him again and again as he reads and rereads and reads more and more

until, finally, he could understand kdj just a little more.

he wonders if this is what it means to have a soulmate. to have someone who completed him so much. who is his everything and to know he is everything to that guy too.

they are each other's beginning and end, salvation and damnation, life and death.

and then,

on death's door, he draws his sword. he regrets but he does not give up.

words echo between his ears in his final moments. that guy was right in the end. of course.

he dreams of fighting and that damn journey to the west remake and he dreams-

his eyes search around, always desperately searching. it's like chasing a ghost. like trying to bridge a bridgless gap between him and-

"where is kim dokja?"

"captain!"

everything in him knows it, knows what happened even if it remained a dream in his memories. the stories vibrantly holding him together was proof enough that he got saved by that bastard. he'll be damned if he ever reveals the truth to biyoo that though.

they crest and bob through the ebb and flow of the wordlines and the universe.

some worlds a peaceful. no scenarios.

yjh wonders if the stardust reincarnated in these worldlines is happy. selfishly, he hopes not and that they'll always wish to come back. to stay. he's already doomed countless worlds for this purpose. spreading this dream of destruction for a single man.

its with these selfish wishes, they drift through space and the brief stops along the way.

some, he leaves faster than others. it depends on how quickly he and biyoo can find a suitable webnovel author. but it doesnt always go all that quickly. authors. they're reclusive annoyances. yjh thinks of hsy and her first appearance and edits the latest update with particularly brutal comments on her prose. so some worlds, they linger on.

somehow, he finds himself on a high building in every world. sometimes they're in seoul but not always. all cities eventually start looking the same anyway. similar but foreign concrete city scapes. large, open skies.

that guy had said the view was beautiful.

"wake up, yoo joonghyuk."

centuries and world lines drift by.

he was not the 41st yjh and she was not the 41st shin yoosung. they had lived and grown to become the them they are now. had both been touched by that guy and his actions. her more so than him.

sometimes, he gets caught in her visage. on the way she smiled or her eyes gleamed. nebulae dwarfed in comparison. every bit of her father.

more than her eyes and her smiles, it was the way she talked. that slightly annoyed, flippant wit. she talks so much now, babbling, scheming, or just talking for the sake of talking. like she was making up for the years of being pretty much nonverbal. or the years of travelling alone. although, her father had always able been to understand her quite well. maybe it was a connection between parent and child.

yjh didnt try to remember his own child, they were always there. a small swaddled thing. it was a worn out grief. memories so bright it faded. a life too short.

biyoo's dad had said he understood. he had never lost child. had sacrificied himself over and over again to ensure not a single one of his went through that cut fate.

yjh knows that kdj had never experienced it. but yjh understands kdj too.

every world, she finds recent trends in webnovels and the world news and what strange "gimmick" the world operated on. some had game systems like the star stream. some had an old apocalypse lingering. some were in the middle of a breaking world. nothing quite bad enough to not find an author, of course.

he wonders if kdj was thriving in those less peaceful worlds like he thrived in the star stream. yjh selfishly hopes not. hopes that something is irreversibly missing in a life without his companions, without yjh.

even if they only stopped in the world for an hour, biyoo always finds the time to report her findings to him. she settles into the arc beside him and rambles on about how the different systems compared to each other or talks about a popular webnovel and the characters in them. the arcs they go through.

something in his chest loosens at the fimilarity. it wouldnt do to get lost in the memories of another person in someone else but he was a regressor.

maybe she understands that too because she always continues to talk even when he stops responding, stops looking quite at her.

he was glad she was there with him. in this long journey.

in the arc, through the worldlines, on the highest points of city buildings, he edits the story, he adds his own chapters. he finds their memories and their stories and writes it all down. he types with fingers tracing only a singular name.

he reads more.

he writes more.

protagonist, reader, author.

the star stream seems to be finally over. their epilogue was upon them.

that pivotal last chapter had not be written yet. the one where kdj comes home.

yjh settles his hands on the keyboard.

as he enters the stratosphere, as the cockpit burns and lights through earth's blue skies like a shooting star, and he finally breathes in the air his and kim dokja's world again, yjh thinks about his long journey. about his 0th turn. about 1865 regressions. about answers and questions and the future. about his happiness.

the [ark] slams into the ocean. he can already see lee jihye screaming at him in the distance. the rest of his little nebulae wait for him. his little sister looks ready to beat him up.

he looks at them and smiles.

as he's pulled towards his and kim dokja's companions, moved back into their embrace and circle as if he's never left, he thinks about his long journey. about his 0th turn. about 1865 regressions. about answers and questions and the future. about kim dokja.

yjh thinks about every stardust that scatters through the wordlines that he had visited. some of them had been peaceful. some of them less so.

yjh hopes each stardust reincarneted into these worldlines are doing well. that they are warm and eating well and are loved. and, yjh hopes that he could still find the ending where he can love that guy and show it to him too. tell him, eventually.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Please remember you love me -Danny Words: 2,282 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'As It Was' -by Harry Styles

XXI: Don't Forget to Hold Your Grudges, Ladies!

Arachne's portraying me in the middle of a fight. In the tapestry, I look taller and older, I've got a fierce gaze as I lift my sword to kill a monster, and lightning strikes behind me just the right way to make me look menacing.

"Now, that's the daughter of Olympus," I think appreciatively. 

Arachne turns in my direction. I yelp at the horrible sight, and the creature hisses. "LEAVE!"

The ground crumbles under me, and I smell a sulfuric scent that suffocates me.

Ara sits up gasping for clean air, feeling the emptiness in her gut as if she were still falling. It takes her a moment to gather her thoughts, but she's almost certain that in her dream, she was falling straight to Tartarus.

Someone knocks on her door and Hedge walks in without waiting for a reply. "Rise and shine, Strategus! Valdez says the ship's about to land."

"I've studied maps of Rome before. I've always wanted to come here, but..." Jason doesn't finish his sentence, too amazed to think. 

Ara, however, isn't eager. The dream she just had told her what she needed to know, and she doesn't want to leave the ship.

"Plans?" Hazel inquires. "Nico has until sunset—at best. And this entire city is supposedly getting destroyed today."

Ara takes a moment to hype herself up before she speaks. "I'm going with Annabeth and Percy."

Annabeth scowls. "No! This is my mission—"

"Percy can't walk around Rome alone, I'll be keeping the numbers even," she replies, eyes fixed on the town ahead so they can't see the fear in her eyes. "We won't follow you when it's time to part ways, you have my word."

"Fine," Annabeth grumbles, having no option but to give in. "Hazel, now that we're in Rome, do you think you can pinpoint Nico's location?"

"Um... hopefully, if I get close enough. I'll have to walk around the city. Frank, would you come with me?"

"Absolutely."

"And, uh... Leo," Hazel adds awkwardly. "It might be a good idea if you came along too. The fish-centaurs said we'd need your help with something mechanical."

"Yeah, no problem."

Piper draws out her dagger and Ara steps back looking at it with contempt, but no one seems to notice. "Jason and I can watch the ship for now. I'll see what Katoptris can show me. But, Hazel, if you guys get a fix on Nico's location, don't go in there by yourselves. Come back and get us. It'll take all of us to fight the giants."

"Good idea," Percy continues. "How about we plan to meet back here at... what?"

"Three this afternoon?" Jason offers. "That's probably the latest we could rendezvous and still hope to fight the giants and save Nico. If something happens to change the plan, try to send an Iris-message."

"That'll give me time to eat the coconuts—I mean dig the coconuts out of our hull," Hedge mutters. "Percy, Annabeth... Just remember: behave. If I hear about any funny business, I will ground you until the Styx freezes over."

Ara makes a face. "Man, I'm going with them, don't get your knickers in a bunch."

"We'll be back soon," Percy gives Ara a fleeting look before walking away. "Good luck, everyone."

Ara walks forward, her gut twisting in knots but deciding that once she leaves the ship she'll be leaving her fear too. Before she departs, though, Leo seizes her wrist. 

"Look after yourself," He tells her.

Ara kisses his cheek and mumbles. "I'll see you soon."

Percy and Annabeth end up super glad that Ara joined them, she's the only one who can kind of speak Italian.

They decide to get food so they go to a restaurant near the river. Ara spaces out for a while, brooding on her dream and her prophecy, giving Percy and Annabeth a moment to be as cheesy as they please.

"So," Percy bites on his thin pizza. "Did you know Ara had a crush on Mike?"

She snaps out of her thoughts. "Are you serious?"

"You had a crush on Mike?" Annabeth raises a brow. "I thought you liked Nico!"

"Right?" Percy continues.

Annabeth's eyes turn sadder. "He was a brother to Lily. I can see the appeal, er... for you, I mean. He was always on your side, looking after you. Kind of like Leo, if Leo knew how to fix people instead of machines."

Percy swallows his food, looking slightly guilty. "I've always had this feeling Lily never forgave me for what happened..."

"I think she blames me more," Ara admits quietly. "Maybe she has the right to be angry... about everything," the girl stabs several pieces of lettuce with her fork, but she doesn't eat them. "I come here to try and show her that he didn't die in vain, and now..."

Now I'm dying, and she won't even know that I'm sorry.

"You know, this feels like the old days," Annabeth tries to lift their spirits. "When it was just us."

"We're missing Grover, nervously chewing trash," Ara retorts.

"This is exactly like the old days," Percy responds, having none of it. "You two hiding things from me, and I have no option but to follow blindly. Did you know she decided to become a daughter of Olympus a year before the war?"

He stares at Annabeth pointedly, and the girl heaves a sigh. "No, but it makes sense." She looks at Ara. "Your mother talked you into it, didn't she?"

Ara shifts in her seat awkwardly. "Not like you think. She was trying to make me feel proud of who I was when I didn't have much to hold onto. I made the choice."

"I think you refuse to see it how it is," Annabeth's gaze isn't as resentful as Percy's, but there is some kind of concern there. "Maybe it's better like this if you want a somewhat nice, sane life. My mom isn't my best ally nowadays..."

Percy eyes both girls, worried at how defeated they sound. "Annabeth, you don't have to do this."

"You'll have to trust me," she says firmly. "You've got to believe I'll come back."

"I believe in you. That's not the problem. But come back from where?"

"Now, that..." Ara lifts her fork and stares at the lettuce, "is the question..."

The roar of an engine cuts through their conversation: a couple of vintage-looking adults are approaching, and Ara knows right away these people are 1. Not mortal, and 2. Looking for them.

"Why, hello," the guy slips off his bike.

"We've had the most lovely morning," the woman tells them as if they're all old friends.

"Oh, gods," Annabeth stammers. "How—how... ?"

Ara kicks her brother's foot. "You know them?"

"No. But you guys do look familiar," he hums. "Are you that guy on Mad Men?"

"Percy!" Annabeth gasps.

"What? I don't watch a lot of TV."

"That's Gregory Peck!" Annabeth exclaims like that would mean anything to Ara and Percy. "And... oh gods! Audrey Hepburn! I know this movie. Roman Holiday. But that was from the 1950s. How—?"

"Oh, my dear! I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else! My name is Rhea Silvia. I was the mother to Romulus and Remus, thousands of years ago. But you're so kind to think I look as young as the 1950s. And this is my husband..."

"Tiberinus. God of the River Tiber," he shakes Percy's hand and winks at Ara.

"Yeah, I see the Aubrey Hepburn," Ara observes the couple with interest. "I'm Ara, this is my brother Percy, and this is Annabeth."

"Uh, hi. Do you two always look like American movie stars?" Percy asks.

"Do we? I'm not sure, actually. The migration of Western civilization goes both ways, you know. Rome affected the world, but the world also affects Rome. There does seem to be a lot of American influence lately. I've rather lost track over the centuries."

"Okay," Percy glances at the girls. "But... you're here to help?"

"My naiads told me you were here." The guy turns to Annabeth. "You have the map, my dear? And your letter of introduction?"

"Uh..." Annabeth hands him the disk and the letter. Ara can't help but notice she's glowing scarlet. "S-so... you've helped other children of Athena with this quest?"

"Oh, my dear! Tiberinus is ever so helpful. He saved my children Romulus and Remus, you know, and brought them to the wolf goddess Lupa. Later, when that old king Numen tried to kill me, Tiberinus took pity on me and made me his wife. I've been ruling the river kingdom at his side ever since. He's just dreamy!"

"Thank you, my dear. And, yes, Annabeth Chase, I've helped many of your siblings... to at least begin their journey safely. A shame all of them died painfully later on. Well, your documents seem in order. We should get going. The Mark of Athena awaits!"

Percy's hand moves across the table and grasps Annabeth's before she can get up. "Tiberinus, let me go with her. Just a little farther."

"But you can't, silly boy!" The lady laughs. "You must return to your ship and gather your other friends. Confront the giants! The way will appear in your friend Piper's knife. Annabeth has a different path. She must walk alone."

"Indeed," The god nods. "Annabeth must face the guardian of the shrine by herself. It is the only way. And Jacksons, you have less time than you realized to rescue your friend in the jar. You must hurry."

"But—"

"It's all right, guys," Annabeth eases them. "I need to do this."

A split second goes by in which Percy realizes he can't work his way around this. "You're right," he struggles to speak. "Be safe."

"Safe? Not at all! But necessary," the goddess beams. "Come, Annabeth, my dear. We will show you where your path starts. After that, you're on your own."

Annabeth kisses Percy and then hugs Ara. The girl squeezes her tightly. 

"If you get yourself killed," Ara whispers. "I'm forcing Hades to spit you out. Don't make me break the rules, please."

Her friend chuckles. "Noted."

Percy and Ara watch Annabeth climb onto the Vespa and leave with the gods.

"There she goes," Ara says plainly. "Let's go."

The boy glares at her. "How can you watch your oldest friendship go on a life-threatening quest like it's nothing?"

Ara sighs without looking at him. "If I had a crisis every time someone I love goes on a quest, I'd have to be institutionalized."

Percy sounds even more frustrated. "You weren't like this."

She locks eyes with him. "When you were sent to Calypso's island, Hephaestus said enduring your absence would be helpful in the future, and it was—"

"So you're saying it's my fault—"

"You were the first person to hand me a sword," she reminds him. "Maybe you didn't believe I had it in me to become more than just a mildly decent warrior, but yeah, I'd say you sort of encouraged this."

"That's not true!" Percy stops her before she crosses a road without looking at both sides. "I believe in you, but if you had the brains to think twice before trying something dangerous, maybe I wouldn't freak out as much—Quests aren't games, Ara! I wish you stopped acting like they are!"

The girl snatches her arm away. "I'm not a ten-year-old anymore, Percy, I know what I'm doing! Stay out of my way!" 

Ara pushes past him and quickens her pace.

Ara stays with Hedge after she and Percy go back to the ship. Piper hands her Katroptis and tells her she can keep an eye on everyone. Ara holds it, and her entire body buzzes with familiarity.

Ara tries to imagine what it felt like to be on the run, with only that dagger to update her on the state of her old motherland. She wonders if the remains of her primal life marked all of the rest, frightening her with thoughts of solitude and exile.

Aphrodite says she isn't Helen, and Ara doesn't want to be Helen, but sometimes she can see Helen reflected in her words and actions, and fears it'll take her to the same end.

She gives the dagger to Hedge. "Here, you can look for those baseball scores and keep an eye on everyone, I'll be at the helm."

The satyr eyes her intently, sensing her stress. "You alright, Strategus?"

Ara walks to the control board and changes the subject. "Do you know how to use this, Coach?"

He goes to her. "Only you and Valdez know how to operate that labyrinth of buttons and levels."

"I'll show you what each one does, and you must try to memorize it."

Her prophecy might come to fruition today, so she has to leave everything in order in case she doesn't come back after they get Annabeth from her solo quest. Ara acts like she's just making conversation with Hedge to pass the time, she teaches him how to use the control board, mentions where she keeps an emergency stash of drachmas, and then, talks about where she keeps the pictures, what things she wants to give to Percy after they return, to Lily and Leo...

Hedge listens with a funny look in his eyes and that's when Ara realizes she's been using charmspeak. She's so anxious about leaving, that the satyr gets the full blast of it. But being honest, it's better this way.

Not even five minutes have passed when the satyr comes back and shoves the dagger into her hand. "You should see this."

Ara grabs the blade and the visions clears: Percy, Jason, and Piper are face-to-face with the giant twins. Behind them, a large bronze jar is set between two large praetor chairs. Ara drops the dagger and picks up her Octopi backpack from under the control board. 

"Hedge, you saw where the others are?"

"No, but I can look for them."

"Cool. I'm going to help these guys."

"You can't go alone!"

Ara hesitates but in the end, she picks up Piper's dagger. "Stay here and wait, I'll contact you once I'm done."

"Strategus!"

Ara runs out with Lily's dagger on her belt and Almighty in her pocket.

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

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[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #21:

Paul Simon's There Goes Rhymin' Simon

When I was little my mother loved to brag about how ugly I'd been as a baby.

"He looked just like a frog," she'd tell her friends while I stood about, often with my finger deep in a nostril. There was always love in her eyes when she said it, but looking back on the photos, I'd say she was putting a positive spin on things. Frogs are, after all, fairly cute.

And so, when my own children were about to be launched into existence I felt fairly excited. Would they look like aged dwarves/me or cosmic goddesses/my wife? Sadly, they all were angelic and beatific, and wound up smart and kind as well, which makes them fairly boring to write about.

So, forget about them. Let's talk instead about one of the ugliest record covers in my entire collection. There's plenty of grossness to report on...

If you want sheer trashiness, cast a terrified eye upon Neil Young's American Stars and Bars. It's ugly on a number of fronts: first, we've got a directly vertical, up from a glass floor, vantage point of Young's plastered and pressed face; work in the barmaid's ridiculous unmentionables and take note that my own 99 cent version is ripped to shreds, and you've got a contender for the ugliest record of all time.

But the vinyl inside is pristine and the album features two of the best songs of all time back to back (Like a Hurricane and Will to Love, of course), so who cares: ugly is awesome in the Dollar Bin.

And then there's Fairport Convention's Live at L.A. Troubadour which is famously horrifying to gaze upon. The art department at Island Records either hated the band, or themselves, or the whole planet. As dedicated Dollar Binners can tell you, my own coveted copy is also slightly melted so its ugliness knows no bounds.

And no ugly cover contest is complete without mentioning Dylan, the infamous Screw You Bob! record of outtakes Columbia put out when Bob jumped ship in 73 for Asylum Records. The only thing uglier than the portrait on the cover is Dylan's cover of Big Yellow Taxi.

(But don't buy the hype that Dylan is terrible; in spite of Columbia's best efforts to end the Bobster's career, the album contains a few great tracks; but that discussion will have to wait for Dollar Bin #642, or maybe #643. That's right: I've got the next 64 years of this nonsense already planned out...).

I could go on and on (we haven't even touched on the giant weird stylus phallus on the cover of The Bunch...). My personal Dollar Bin is chock full of unsightly greatness.

But, without further adieu, let me submit for your very personal consideration what is arguably the greatest ugly record of all time: Paul Simon's There Goes Rhymin' Simon.

Behold the horrifying cover art concept: every track on the album gets its own infantile piece of pop art horror somewhere on the gatefold. Mingled in are an archival photo of teenybopper Simon with a full head of hair and another photo of daddy Simon with a full head of combed over hair.

The Dollar Bin teems with copies of this record; everyone, and their weird uncle, bought a copy of Rhymin' Simon in 73 because the music within it is awesome, but they, or their grandkids who inherited the collection, just couldn't bear to look at the insidious cover and therefore eventually pawned it off on dollar bins the world over. If you don't own a copy, get a life and go get it. Put it on your turntable but don't look at the cover; like Medusa's visage, it may turn you to stone. And I like you just the way you are: unstoney.

Indeed, I'd argue that There Goes Rhymin Simon is proof positive that most people in these troubled times are more focused on how their record collection looks on the shelf than how it sounds. You know 'em: they've got Steely Dan albums enshrined in plastic and they can't wait to show you their minty copy of The Wall. Yuck. Lend me a ruler and I'll draw you some bricks, if you really want to see some, but I won't force you to listen to Roger Waters drone on and on about his own hideous meaning of life.

I was deep in a dollar bin recently, knees aching on the floor, when two college kids came in, asking for directions to the Yes records. They very clearly did not own a record player; rather they wanted Yes to grace their dorm room walls. Indeed, that's probably the sole reason anyone on earth has ever had for owning a Yes record. I've never owned one, and I never will. I declare Hell No to Yes.

Only a masochist would mount Rhymin' Simon on their wall. Who, you ask, do we have to blame for undercutting the fourth masterpiece of Simon's career (The first three are Bookends, Bridge Over Troubled Water and Paul Simon) with such shoddy pop art? The answer is none other than Milton Glaser, the guy who foisted the following on us all:

Imagine the greatest, most recognized thing in your entire life taking you six seconds to create and being something a fourth grader could come up with. I heart NY to, but I mean Neil Young when I say so; why isn't anyone offering me a solo show at the Pompidou Center?

Glaser could have designed a plain brown paper bag to hold Simon's record, then slipped a fresh cow pie in alongside it and thereby have done Simon an immeasurably better turn in the art department.

Before you accuse me of just being ignorant about modern art let me offer the defense that I actually took a course in modern art at Cambridge for a term which led to religious experiences in front of Rothkos and Chagalls. Furthermore, Glaser has made some wonderful art in his career. Consider Dylan's psychedelic hairdo:

I'm guessing that Simon finished Rhymin' and then ordered Glaser to give him the Dylan treatment on his cover. But Glaser took one look at Simon's hair and said, "Paul we're going with ugly rather than comb over with this one," then turned out Rhymin's abomination. Simon learned his lesson: every one of his album covers since then has either featured tasteful art or a photo of Paul with a hat or hairpiece carefully in place.

It's tempting to think of Rhymin' as Simon's own version of Chrome Dreams, Neil Young's abandoned (but recently released) 70's album of masterful individual songs. Almost every track on Chrome Dreams comes from a separate recording session and every song stands on its own, seemingly unrelated to its neighboring tracks. Like the eclectic stops on Odysseus's journey home, both Rhymin' and Chrome Dreams can be experienced as a series of only vaguely related adventures. There's plenty of terror from Polyphemus cave to be witnessed on each record, just like there's a lot of lust to be had in Circe's bed.

Glaser's juvenile and segregated artistic approach on Rhymin' only strengthens this sense. What does a cheap, jaundiced Mardi Gras mask possibly have in common with equally cheap, inverted dollhouse chairs? And what's with the terrifying heart-pupiled eye? Can't we ask Odysseus to ram a spike into it or something?

But on close listen, Rhymin' finds cohesion, its greatness unfolding around us as we sail narrow straights between the Scylla of 70's pop schmaltz the Charybdis of cultural appropriation.

Let's start on the Scylla side, shall we? Simon can sound saccharine on occasion. Songs like Why Don't You Write Me and The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine sound like byproducts of a men's retreat with Stephen Stills and Paul Anka. Everyone ate whipped cream out of tubs, compared biceps and combed their chest hair with care.

The album opens in these Scylla infested waters with Kodachrome, an almost too perfect pop number which, if taken a step further, would sound like a Chicago song. But Simon adds kick to the mix, enunciates the word "crap" with aplomb, and chides his ego whilst among the ladies. And so the whole thing rolls nicely: when this number comes up on FM radio, you'll hum along.

Other moments when he dodges the six heads of schmaltz include Quincy Jones' feathered pillow arrangement on Something So Right and the overall daddyrific vibes of Saint Judy's Comet. But both of these songs are masterpieces lyrically and melodically; we lean into the schmaltz because everything about the songs is indeed so very right.

I'm pretty convinced Dylan listened to Something So Right with great care before wrestling, over and over again, with You're a Big Girl Now a year later. Simon famously told Dylan in the mid sixties that he liked the rough sketch of a song Dylan had just cut in the studio. Paul encouraged Bob to take his time and build the track up into something great. Dylan responded by saying that the single rough take would be the only take; he had bigger fish to fry. The story is cute, but not altogether accurate; after all there's about 4000 studio takes of Like a Rolling Stone. And by 74 Bob gave Simon's perfectionist approach an even more earnest try. Thank god he did.

Listen for the organ to come soaring in, landing on the fence of Dylan's soundscape like a precious bird of flight. Am I wrong to think that this glorious track is a fitting cousin to Something So Right?

Okay, that covers the schmaltz. But the awkward whirlpool of cultural appropriation has also been a hazard in Simon's career and he narrowly dodges a few Charybdis sized abysses on Rhymin'. Three years after going full karaoke on El Condor Pasa he swims his way through two slightly cringy, I Wanna Be Black, soul numbers on Rhymin': Tenderness and Loves Me Like a Rock. Both come with the full support of The Dixie Hummingbirds. I'm even whiter than Simon so I can't comment with any authority on the ethics of Simon taking the lead while these great Black artists support him.

But I can tell you that I love both songs, especially Tenderness, and that Simon did a lot more than any other white artists of his generation to promote and give credit to the artists of color he worshiped and leaned on. He took the Peruvian band responsible for El Condor Pasa, Urubamba, as well as the Jessy Dixon Singers, on tour with him after this record, and both groups are featured with prominent respect on his subsequent live album (Live Rhymin' is another Dollar Bin classic and another significant entry in the ugly cover contest).

And we all know how Simon earnestly introduced American audiences to Brazilian and African artists in the 80's. Simon's career may be built on a good deal of appropriation, but it seems to me that he always tries to do it with respect. After all, he treats Aretha Franklin's version of Bridge over Troubled Water as the song's authoritative take.

But I'm not sure that even all those qualifiers can rectify the soft reggae vibes of the Rhymin' track Was A Sunny Day. If it's okay with you, let's give Simon a pass there, as the song does feature the vinyl debut of The Roches.

Alongside these skillful schmaltz and appropriation dodges Rhymin' also features a few straight up Paul Simon classics. Take Me to the Mardi Gras, One Man's Ceiling, Learn How to Fall and America Tune: these are beautiful songs from start to finish, each of them simple and incredibly complex all at once. Simon has the uncanny ability to turn easy listening into high art and there's a dark turn to be found in each song if you lean in. Listen to the Reverend Claude Jeter sing the glowing, devout bridge on Mardi Gras; worry about who's doing what behind Simon's building in Ceiling; count the impossible number of balanced harmonizing parts in Fall; and, most of all, take a moment to appreciate the towering greatness of American Tune.

As a teenager I saw Simon twice on the Rhythm of the Saints tour. Everything was dense, earnest and slick. But when Simon came out alone, in midst of the First Gulf War, and sang American Tune I got my first real taste of true patriotism: Simon loves his country enough to criticize it through earnest, complex and open-ended metaphor. I'd say he did the same thing on the tenth anniversary of 9/11 as well:

I don't care how little hair he has, and I don't care what his albums look like. Paul Simon is a Dollar Bin genius, an old friend who's still standing with us as we watch the Statue of Liberty sail away to sea. I sure hope we can come together and reel it back in.

Happy November everyone.

[yalemon]

I made this post back when S3 of Brassic aired but it feels even more relevant now so I thought I'd better post it before I forget about it again:

I know there are people who aren't into the Vinnie/Erin thing, and I totally get that, but as someone who doesn't usually like how romance is handled in the media, I see them as an exception.

Romantic relationships on TV tend to have at least one of these problems:

1. Bad pacing (making an initially interesting ship burn out quickly or drag out to the point people are tired of being baited)

2. The characters have a toxic dynamic.

3. The writers try to push together actors who don't have chemistry.

Now admittedly the jury's out on whether I'll feel this way by the end, but Vinnie and Erin have so far managed to avoid these issues, imo.

The way their relationship is developing feels organic. Early on you get the sense they both have a soft spot for each other, and as things get complicated with Dylan and Tyler, those feelings get deeper. It hadn't occurred to Vinnie that he'd have a chance with Erin, thinking she'd always be with Dylan, but when they break up he realizes he wants more than friendship with her.

On her end, she sees Vinnie step up to be there for Tyler, and it changes the way she perceives him. They're getting to know each other on another level, but aren't rushing into anything because they don't want to hurt Tyler, Dylan, or their own friendship. I like the restraint being shown here, yet at the same time the fact Joe has indicated he's into seeing their relationship progress means bonding moments do have significance and aren't just there to tease fans.

One of my favorite things about Vinnie/Erin is that they make a great team. They're like an oasis of calm surrounded by chaos -- I love how relaxed their scenes are. Unlike Dylan, Vinnie doesn't try to control her and is happy to have her involved in schemes. He doesn't do things because he feels he has to, he wants to. Unlike Jake, he doesn't pressure her to go out with him or attempt to change her. Unlike the both of them, he always knows how to genuinely make Erin feel better when she's stressed or upset. Erin keeps Vinnie focused, gives him reassurance, is a leader in her own right, and is great at problem-solving.

Another is that they see each other for who they really are. People tend to draw all sorts of conclusions about Vinnie and Erin based on how they look, their class status, etc. Vinnie is viewed as a pathetic, unintelligent criminal. Erin is constantly objectified and treated as a potential trophy wife, and she's highly underestimated. The two of them don't see any of that in each other though. Vinnie admires Erin, and while he does consider her beautiful, he loves her for the person she is - her strength, her empathy, her humor, etc. Erin likewise knows how smart and kind-hearted Vinnie is. She views him as the only man she can depend on, incredibly resourceful, a great friend, and a great dad.

I don't know if it was always intentional to go there with them, but I think it was the right choice to lean into the chemistry Joe and Michelle have. I've found that a lot of shows have an annoying habit of fighting against chemistry to shoehorn in whatever other relationship they had planned, and it never works.

[warriorlid14]

I’ve been thinking about it and I kind of ship Gale Hawthorne with Delly Cartwright. I know you’ve spent much more time thinking about these characters than the week or so that I have though so I’m curious about your thoughts.

I saw a post that was talking about how Gale hasn’t seen killing on an individual level the way Katniss did in the games so it’s sort of more abstract to him. I started thinking about it and realized that Katniss (for much of the series) hasn’t seen firsthand killing on a massive scale like Gale did with the bombing of 12. So in a way she’s also naive. She and Gale have such different damage that by the end of the series they can’t understand each other despite their early shared history, upbringing, and similar personalities.

So my thought is that Delly is to Peeta what Gale is to Katniss—someone who shares his temperament and upbringing and functions as a sibling/best friend. Just as Peeta was by Katniss’s side in the games, Delly shared Gale’s pain throughout the series. She watched her childhood friend get whisked away to die twice & she watched bombs fall on her district as she huddled in the woods.

Katniss and Peeta work well together—opposite temperaments with shared trauma. So I feel like Delly is someone who is perfectly suited to complement Gale as he heals. Thoughts?

Oooh interesting thought!

I love the differences between the killing Katniss saw v the killing Gale saw.

Katniss saw other people kill each other. And while yes, obviously she knows this is the Capitol’s fault, there is also some blame to give to the person who directly did the killing (and also have sympathy for them because she's in their shoes). She also gets to meet and sympathize capitolites.

Gale saw direct capitol weapons (and their supporters) kill his entire district. All the blame is on the capitol (and their supporters). It's why I subscribe to the whole Nut scene being 30% logic, 70% raw emotion ("We saw children die and couldn't do anything about it!")

I also ship Gale and Delly! I also ship Gale with like 378363 other people because he's a shippable dude.

Delly: yes, absolutely! I always kind of forget that she also had a friend in the Games. Delly/Gale to me work best post war. Gale is going through the motions and trying his best to fix a broken nation but is emotionally checked out. And Delly, despite the trauma of losing her family and home (and growing up in Panem) is still somehow optimistic, which is what draws Gale to her. She is his summer the way Peeta is Katniss' spring. (Also wrote a thing about them earlier)

Madge: Gotta say, this one has risen to my number 1 ship. I see them as revolutionary buddies. He's tactical and strategic and she's stealthy and has connections and can charm the rich. I headcanon that they become friends during the first book and are exchanging secret plans in the 2nd one.

Peeta: .... listen, LISTEN. They bond over being hung up on Katniss and fall in love. Just, it writes itself. Also I have this scene seared into my brain where they're training together and Gale has no idea Peeta can wrestle. And gets his ass handed to him. And is mentally like ".... is it wrong that I'm a little turned on?"

Thom: childhood best friends to lovers (Katniss didn't rlly have friends, but I headcanon that Gale had a friend group within his classmates)

Johanna and Cressida are also decent options and both have a "mark me down as scared and horny" vibe and I love that for him.

[thatfangirlofsb]

T/W: Spoilers of grishaverse.

Your highness (VIII)

"So you and Zoya..." Jesper took off his hat, putting it on Wylan's head who seemed to have seen something very interesting in the water. "Is clearly that there has been something, but... I didn't expect you to blurt it out so easily."

"Good plan." Kaz said grabbing his cane and hitting Matthias with it, trying to wake him up. "Making them focus on something completely different from what they wanted to know. Embarrassing, but effective." He hit him again, harder this time, and the fjerdan seemed to snap back to reality. "Welcome Helvar, we are in the middle of nowhere and the ship has moved away."

"And your weight is sinking the only way we have not to float away." Jesper looked to his left; where Nikolai stood with his head between his legs, surely regretting what he had said, and then to his right; where Wylan continued with his gaze fixed on that liquid that was soon going to gulp them. "And surely Tolya, Tamar, Inej, Genya, Nina and Zoya end up more meters under the sea than we are going to do."

"Nina?" The drüskelle's voice was as usual again, with contempt and fury; he was already fine.

"Yes, the one you tried to kill in Hellgate." Jesper sighed, grabbing the hat again and putting it back on. "Lots of muscle but no brain, Nina is right."

"I have an idea." Wylan spoke, drawing a smile to Jesper. "But we'll probably end up soaked and with water everywhere."

"I'll wait for you to finish before showing my satisfaction with you, merchant boy."

"Kaz will stay rowing. And we'll get out of the boat." The zemeni's face was no longer one of joy, but of doubt. "The bodies float in the water, if we hold each other's legs in a row the boat will be able to carry us all without sinking." Jesper's grimace was lowering the corners more and more. "Only one will have to hold on to the boat, the heaviest, and leave the rest of his weight on the sea while the others hold on to the feet from largest to smallest."

They all looked at Matthias, but only Nikolai dared to speak; coming out of his little trance for a few seconds.

"And we trust the fjerdan completely?" He raised his hands in surrender when he saw Matthias's face. "It's not for nothing, just because you're from Fjerda, drüskelle, you've tried to kill two grisha several times and you don't mix colors well."

"Everything but the last." Jesper said looking at Kaz, searching for an order. "Boss?"

"Wylan…I'll leave it in your hands." He gripped the oars and looked back with his planning face. "I have to take revenge on Zoya Nazyalensky."

"Nina..." Matthias stated as well.

"What kind of education do they give you in Fjerda? You only know how to say names and short phrases."

"Is a man of not many words." The zemeni answered Nikolai, getting up and ready to jump into the water. And he would have if Wylan's hand gripping his jacket hadn't stopped him. "What happens now?"

"There is a small disadvantage." The explosion expert gave a slight nervous smile while tilting his head slightly. "The weight of the clothes would be a problem, so..."

"If you wanted to see me naked, you could have told me earlier, market boy." And everyone but Matthias and possibly Kaz would have laughed if they weren't in that situation. But they weren't on sofas in a living room with a fire going; but in the middle of the sea, completely lost and in a boat that was sinking more and more.

"No." Matthias spoke, but Jesper had taken off his jacket and was already reaching for the shirt. "I'm not going to..."

"Sea."

"Sea?" Wylan's voice made the gunman forget about the fjerdan's refusal for a few minutes.

"Sea."

"I'll always love you." He gently picked up the plaid jacket, which had been left on the boat, and balled it up, throwing it far with his long arm. "Now the next thing."

"No, I'm not going to undress."

"You can keep the underwear." Wylan spoke, trying to help the fjerdan with words to follow the plan.

"No, I'm not going to..."

"Take it off or I'll rip it off." Nikolai stood on his toes, trying to get at the same heigh with the fjerdan but he couldn't. "My shipmates, grisha under the crown's protection, and your Wraith are there. So you can take it off now." Matthias's crossed arms intimidated him a bit, so he lowered his feet to the ground as normal and stepped away slightly. "You, fjerdans, aren't very familiar? Well, I have part of my family there. My companions, with whom I've experienced many things. And, if that's not enough for you, there's also my future baby. And if I die without seeing it , Zoya dies or we both die... I swear I will chase you wherever and however." Matthias left his arms hanging, though he was still fully clothed. "I know that for your fjerdan culture what we have done is wrong, but I don't care. Do you know why? Because I love her and that's what I've always dreamed of with her. And now I'm going to fight for that and to save all of us. Will you join or not?

Without saying a word, Matthias began to remove his shirt with disapproving looks towards everyone. Wylan was about to clap, but remembered something was missing.

"And the tracker?"

Kaz stepped back slightly, letting them see his curled up body inside the boat before explaining.

"He hit his head when the squaller threw us." With a single glance at the drüskelle, he tossed his shirt into the water and approached Mal. "Matthias, do the honours." The fjerdan grabbed the limp body by the shirt and lifted it slightly. He pulled his spare hand away and hit him open-palmed on the right cheek; with such strength that the boy from the orphanage snapped his eyes open.

"Alina!"

"It's not Sunshine, Oretsev. It's Fjerdanshine." Nikolai said, placing a hand on Helvar's back in gratitude, it didn't quite reach his shoulder, but he quickly removed it when he saw his face. "We need you to take off your clothes."

"What?"

"You can keep the underwear." Wylan smiled slightly, though he felt like a bad support despite showing all his teeth. "And jump into the water afterwards."

[°°°]

"Come on, with more energy." Kaz said mockingly as he watched them from the calm of the boat, in his clothes and not sinking as he rowed.

"The fjerdan is moving his foot too hard."

"How can you have such thin ankles, Nikolai?"

"Why is your hand so cold?"

Wylan heard everything from the end of the line. He didn't know how much time had passed since the beginning of their strange journey, the only thing that came to his mind was how, from the first to the last, they moved their legs up and down in slightly rhythmic movements.

"We need to copy the same pace, otherwise we're not going to get anywhere." He raised his head a little, which was above the water, trying to see a reference point in which he could support his calculations about the distance. "It is easier than it seems to be."

"We are in our underwear, floating in the sea and we don't know if we are going in the right direction." Jesper spoke, between sad, for the loss of his beloved hat, and tired; but more the first. "Is that simple to you, little merchant?"

"Dje janin ess."

"Thank you." Nikolai said, still not understanding a word Matthias had said. "But even though my mother is of Fjerda... I don't know anything about fjerdan."

"And you know kerch?" Jesper was moving his long legs in movements that were too strong for the blonde to be lifted out of the water a bit by his arm.

"I have had to talk with too many merchants for loans for the crown." But then he decided to add something. "Mal only knows ravkan and a few other words from other languages."

"How do you say 'move and don't stand there like a fucking stiff stick' in ravkan?" Wylan asked, watching as he had to exert more strength in his legs thanks to the tracker's almost lack of movement.

" 'Kei onolich yash?' " Nikolai laughed, and the demolition expert took it as madness or nervousness; although he hoped it was the last one. He repeated it, and Mal's question to the king was not long in coming.

"Why did he ask me if I want to marry him?"

"I don't know, it will be a way to ask for a little commitment in a mission. Kerch stuff."

"I need you all to follow the same rhythm." An idea passed through Wylan's head and, as a last resort, he decided to release it. "From Kaz to the end, each one say what gives you energy to keep swimming and move the legs up and down at the same time. But we all have to be fast." Nikolai began to translate it for Mal, who sighed in surprise.

"I'm not going to do that..."

"Boss, please." Jesper begged a bit, visibly desperate already. "It's our last option."

"Money." Kaz began in a monotone tone of voice.

"Nina." Matthias roared.

"Help the Wraith." Jesper blurted out.

"Zoya!" Nikolai shouted with joy. "And save everyone, of course."

"Get out alive and see Alina." Mal continued.

"Not drowning without anyone remembering me and just being fish food." Wylan finished.

"Are you ok?" The king asked with concern. "Even you have lowered my hopes."

"Keep going." Mal said in Ravkan, and immediately Nikolai began to translate. "We are close."

"You could have said it earlier." The king complained.

"I like to see you desperate."

[°°°]

They all fell to the ground as soon as they finished climbing the height of the ship until they reached the deck. And they would have continued there if they had not encountered such a warlike scene.

Some bodies were already on the ground, and they took advantage of it. They hid behind some boxes and stole all the weapons that two grisha and two already dead otkazat'sya had on them. There weren't enough to go around, so some were left without any weapons. That wasn't going to stop them though.

"Okay, this is the plan..."

"I do not follow orders from a ravkan." Ignoring Nikolai's words, Matthias got up and grabbed a gun. He hadn't come there to defend those drüsje; but to fulfill the mission that had been entrusted to him a long time ago. "Nina Zenik!" When he came out of hiding, and by shouting his name, he managed to make the heartrender turn her head towards him; although keeping her gaze fixed on the drüskelle was already taken care of by his lack of clothing.

"Matthias?" Nina asked in surprise, although she quickly came out of her stupor when she saw how one of the mutineers was approaching from behind and he didn't notice. "Matthias!"

Her scream was useless, he was ready to shoot and finally kill her. But the grisha spread out her arms to summon. The mutineer quickly fell to the ground struck down and Matthias, seeing how Nina lowered her arms again and nothing had happened to him, turned his head to finally look at the man who had tried to kill him.

"Nina?" Matthias said, still doubting the grisha's clear actions.

"You'll thank me later, try not to die first." She made puppy eyes at him before running off, to which the drüskelle yelled her name angrily again.

The others were already struggling when he snapped out of his stupor and hatred for the heartrender, and they weren't doing so badly. Except for Nikolai, who every second checked the face of the dead and if it weren't for Kaz and his cane, he would have been stabbed in the back by now.

"What are you doing?" In a move he would call stupid for the rest of his life, he walked towards the two of them and began to protect the opposite side of the king. "

Zoya... ring." Nikolai looked up for a few seconds and quickly fired at a grisha that was approaching them, barely feeling the slight squeeze he had cause in his heart.

"If you and her weren't the way to my pay… I would have let you get shot in the back of the head, Lantsov." Kaz struck at an otkazat'sya, hitting one of the arms while he dealt with the other, and then the head.

"Remind it to me when we're all safe, everyone."

"I never forget debts." He looked, swinging his cane again as Matthias fired at the same time. "And less about one of a million kruge."

"Nikolai!" Tamar called his name, approaching the group with Tolya. "Weren't you...?"

"Change of plans." The ravkan king answered him, as they hid behind a pile of sacks. "Where do I find Zoya?"

"Down." Tolya was breathing hard, touching his side while holding his sword up with his other hand. "With Genya." He didn't understand anything, and he would have kept thinking about it if the shots and screams hadn't started to sound louder. "They were beating us, thanks for coming. Without Zoya we thought we…"

"Without Zoya?"

"Hey, Inej and Nina are fighting alone." Jesper came up behind them, accompanied by Wylan. He fired before ducking next to them to get a better look at his next target. "Why don't you stop worrying about her for a few minutes and we'll try to get out of here alive? Bomb, Wylan." A large explosion sounded after a few seconds, letting them see how Inej took advantage of the mist and began to use her knives on some opponents. She moved like a gazelle, carefully and covertly; but at the same time with a great speed that didn't allow the path of her daggers to be seen. "Come on, we have to finish this."

It only took Kaz to get up for everyone to follow. And, with the new components in their group, Inej and Nina managed to attack the same person together while the others did the same. Shots, cuts and blows were exchanged between the two sides. But on the contrary, thanks to the lack of grisha and the surprise with the arrival of reinforcements, these were reduced until none were left alive.

"What are you all doing, but without Kaz, in your underwear?" Nina fixed her gaze on them, and Tolya and Tamar did the same; realizing that detail for the first time. "But I'm not complaining to you, Matthias."

"Nina!"

"I'm going to have to teach you new words." Nikolai chuckled a little at the fjerdan's response, but quickly fixed his gaze on the group that had remained on the ship after their departure. "Information for another time. Zoya?"

"She's..." A very loud cry was heard, and Nina quickly pointed to the hatch that led to the storage room. "Genya and Zoya. Downstairs. Storage."

And Nikolai ran there, followed by the others.

—————

You can see the list of fanfics where all the parts of this fanfic are found so far HERE.

[thewertsearch]

Asks Compilation 30/05

And they really do. It’s kind of a crime that they never grew up together, because that would have been the funniest shit ever. 

I’ll give them a look soon then! I’m planning on doing a few in-between things like that after the conclusion of Act 4.  

That’s four accidental references. I guess when your comic is already so reference-heavy, this becomes kind of a statistical inevitability. 

I really gotta check out this game. 

That’s hilarious, but also - people do live reads on Twitch? That’s so fun! It wouldn’t be for me, but I’d love to watch some of those, once I’ve finished the comic. It’s such a novel way to do something like this. 

The Midnight Crew are duplicated across sessions, and I think it’s pretty likely that the same goes for all unique Carapaicians. I’m fairly confident that WV, PM and AR all exist in the troll session.

If he’s always predisposed to rebel, then he’s just another card Sburb can play. It’s like anon said - if the Reckoning is coming on a little too early, he attacks the Black King to delay it, so Players can get there on time.

But he can’t ever win, because the game decrees that Prospit can’t be spared. This is why I hope he isn’t scripted, because if he is, this whole thing gets really tragic really fast. 

Hah, I noticed after I posted it, but I didn’t bother to change it. It really captured the energy of those last few panels.  

Hell yeah! 😍 It’ll be cool to see how the design evolves as I learn what each of the trolls’ features actually mean and signify.  

They’re honestly a ton of fun to make. I haven’t done any sprite work in a long time, and it’s been really fun to get back into it!

Damn it, this is what happens when you type your FAQ at 2am...

Theory: The Guardians weren’t cloned from themselves. They were created from mutant TBH DNA, and the Striders are the least mutated of all. 

As a former security analyst, I am honor-bound to practice good infosec and not share my birthday online. But yeah, we’re in my season! 

I never liked having a summer birthday - I much prefer winter weather, since I’m kinda photosensitive. I’m also the only one in my family with a summer birthday. In defiance to Gemini symbolism, I stand alone. >:)

Oh, yeah, I can for sure believe that people would still ship these kids post-Veil - lest we forget the perfect storm of discourse that was early Supernatural. 

It’s probably a good thing that these kids were thirteen-year-old online friends, and not eighteen-year-old college roommates. That could have got really awkward, and I imagine (read: hope) that Sburb intercedes to make sure such situations don’t arise. 

Again: My heartfelt thanks to all readers for not asking me about shipping pre-Veil. I don’t think I would have shipped RoseDave or JohnJade, but if I’d actually had reason to think about it at the time, you never know...

Like, I know this stuff is probably just being alchemized, but I can’t get over the possibility that Players have ‘iconic accessories’ built into their DNA. 

Except the Striders. They just get big ol’ eyes. 

Love the idea that Battlefield Carapacians have their own distinct culture. Living in an eternal war zone would change you, no matter how deeply ingrained your Sburb programming was.

I like to think that when WV rose up, it was the war-weary Battlefield Carapacians who were the first to stand beside him 

[ Rex Duodecim is really good but it spoils some stuff later on. you should watch it after Act 5 fully ends... maybe even liveblog it? - Cat ] 

Thanks a bunch, and get well soon! I’m glad that the liveblog is helping you through it!

So it’s a fanmade video that was confirmed as canon later on? Or is it more that the author likes it so much that they consider it canon? Either way, I’ll check it out when I can be sure it won’t spoil me on anything!

Thank you! You can thank @beneath-these-bones for the initial design. It’s a fantastic base, and I plan to update it when I get round to drawing some alchemy gear.

It works either way! Despite the fact that I never get assigned the Space Aspect, I still love all things astronomical. 

Yeah, I’m inclined to agree. I love the star’s dopey face, but the planet does look a lot better. Initially I made the planet’s ring fully horizontal, but this is definitely an improvement.  

Chillingly plausible. Now that we know Rose’s Grimoire is the real deal, who knows what effect that thing was having on her, over the years? Plus, she’s been dreaming on Derse her whole life...

[buzzsawbrando]

I’m not sure if this has been already asked before, but what inspired you to make art?

First time someone's asked me this, actually!

But, my art is a very strange amalgamation of inspired things, because I take inspiration from everything I get into to be able to improve my own artwork. But if you're asking direct inspirations (as in what really started me to draw) then I'll end up talking about both. Because I like rambling lol

What started making me draw probably isn't what most people expect from me,

Since I was a young kid, I would primarily stick to drawing really simple shaped characters. Kirby and Starfy characters were really easy for me to draw, and it helped me branch out to drawing more complex things like Pokemon or characters I liked from Brawl. (Captain Falcon was a character I mained extensively in Brawl and REALLY wanted to draw him as a kid. I still main him in SSB Ultimate alongside Kirby!)

Though, I did have way more relevant things from my childhood that probably left WAY more of an impact on my current art style today than anything else.

Resi 4 and Resi 6 specifically are the RE games I remember the most clearly from my childhood. ESPECIALLY Resi 4. Kind of strange to hear that 8 year old me ended up getting into these games alongside shit like Kirby, but my parents were never ones to really 'censor' what kind of gaming content their kids consumed and I would always watch my mom play through Resi 4 and Resi 6.

Resi 6 especially had a big influence on me because of one certain guy...

It becomes a common theme with me and evil blonde men, for some reason.

LIST OF AMALGAM'D INSPIRATIONS I'VE ACQUIRED FROM OVER THINE YONDER YEARS

This is either going to be really long or take nearly no time at all to write out. So here we go.

The most GLARINGLY obvious inspiration in my work (and has been for years) is Jojo's Bizarre Adventure.

Jojo part 1 and 4 had probably the biggest impacts on my art-style today. I even own Hirohiko Araki's Manga in Theory and Practice book which helped me draw muscles the way I do! He has an entire section in that book showing off his sketches and how he drew bodies during the development of Jojolion, which helped me out tenfold in regards to drawing muscular bodies to get results I wanted.

Also can't forget the.. Most glaring awakening I had in my entire life because of this series.

fuck you jojo

Berserk is a much more recent inspiration but its weaseled its way into my art in quite a few ways.

I've always loved Dark Fantasy as a genre, but consistently despised how it was handled. I avoided Berserk for a lot of reasons, but man binging it was probably the best decision I could've made even if I'm late to the party. It is DEFINITELY not a story for everyone, but I read it at a time when I think I needed it most in my life and it'll always stick with me for that. Berserk isn't a perfect story by any means, but I will always appreciate its influence and the ways it handled trauma as a subject. I still hope one day to capture some of the gorgeous aspects of Miura's artwork in my own, if that's even possible.

Skullgirls was a big inspiration in my work as a young'un, surprisingly enough.

It was a Fighting Game that really got me into FG's as a whole, and I think its really cartoony and 'bubbly' style absolutely inspired the way I draw a lot of things today. Eye shapes, thick lines, bright and poppy colors etc etc.. SG definitely had an influence on my work, even if it's hard to see today buried underneath all my other inspirations.

Osomatsu-San is probably my most shameful inspiration. To date.

It's not a bad anime or anything. In fact, it holds up really well. Hell, I've been planning to binge it again someday when I get the chance.

It's shameful because I got into it at its peak, where people really had a hard-on for shipping the brothers. And still do. I will refrain from commenting on that, but speaking as an ex-"blmatsu" it was probably the most shameful time of my entire life LMAO. I was a stupid fucking kid and I am extremely glad I grew out of it.

Despite my frankly cringe-infested past, this was still an anime that ended up really kickstarting my artstyle into the more cartoon-y side of things. It also is the anime that made me love coloring my lineart things other than pure black, the deep blue of the Osomatsu lineart has always been really appealing to me and I've always liked it from an artist standpoint. I've always been meaning to draw more matsu stuff.

Yeah yeah, hold your horses, but I read Chainsaw Man before the anime was even ANNOUNCED so give me a break here.

I'm an insanely huge shounen fan, if it isn't obvious already. The only thing is that I am a picky shounen fan. Chainsaw Man ended up scratching an itch other modern shounens like Demon Slayer or whatever couldn't really reach, which was how it handled monsters.

The monster design in CSM is probably the BIGGEST reason it's up here, it is one of my biggest inspirations with creature design and generally making unique looking beasts. This mixed with Berserk ends up making a horrid amalgam of beasts in my head and what I want to create someday.

Speaking of creature inspirations, here's something that isn't a manga or anime.

Gemini Home Entertainment is, in my personal opinion, one of the better analog horrors out there.

Analog horror is really oversaturated nowdays, but GHE is such a cool end-of-the-world scenario with peak body horror that I can't get anywhere else. Scarcely uploads, but christ when it does it's haunting and I love it. GHE is also a big inspiration for a character I have that i've been working on!

Do I have to explain this next one. I never shut up about Guilty Gear. No big surprise.

GGST is the first FG i've gotten into that really kicked in how much i really love FG's as a whole.

Plus, buff men. I'm a big fan of tit what can I say.

And before this post gets too long, here's some honorable mentions.

sorry this post is so long but . I have a LOT of inspirations always.

[pariahsparadise]

-ASTER-

APPEARANCE:

- White

-5'3

- Short, wavy, layered dirty-blonde hair.

-Green eyes

- Little chubby? I mean I'm not plus sized or

anything, but I do have a little extra stomach I

don't have the basic, white, crop-top, Starbucks,

girl body.

- Couple freckles across my body.

PERSONALITY: I'm extremely shy and awkward at first. But once you get to know me I think I can be really sweet and funny, it'll take awhile for me to open up though. I am sarcastic whenever I see the chance, but that's not my only sense of humor. I can be extremely forgetful and clumsy, but my friends always find humor in it. I am definitely insecure and feel like I come off a little strong when I like somebody, just cuz they always end up not liking me back and I destroy our friendship, so I distance myself, and kinda always remind myself that they'll never like me. I don't think I'm toxic, I have self-control and very loyal, I'd never leave my friends and I'm always there for them. But yeah, I'm extremely shy and awkward at first, but I think I can be pretty funny and cool to hang out with.

SEXUALITY: Pansexual

READER: Male reader

EXTRA: PIzzzzzz don't ship me with Mike, anyone

but him.

thank you for the request! sorry that it took so long </3

i ship you with: will byers

will and you would probably be friends first

he's a little enraptured with you on sight though, he thinks you're really good looking

he especially loves your eyes because he hasn't seen many people with green eyes

finds your forgetfulness and clumsiness endearing

he'd probably laugh at you a little, but he'd always help you after

leaves little notes for you to find and calls you if you need to be reminded about something important

he really values your loyalty, he thinks it's one of the best qualities a person can have

he introduces you to d&d, he's so passionate about it that you can't help but fall in love with the game yourself

(and maybe him along the way)

HIM DRAWING YOU, HELLO???

will finds himself just randomly sketching out your side profile, the crop of your blonde hair, dotting the freckles in exactly the right places, in the middle of his classes

would probably never show you, he'd feel really embarrassed about it

he will probably doodle little comic versions of you and him on the notes i mentioned earlier, though

and the way you praise him, storing the notes safely away, means so much more to him than he could ever tell you

if you do catch feelings for him and try to distance yourself from him, will would probably let you be alone for a little while

he'll feel really bad though, wondering if he did something wrong

or if he made you uncomfortable in any way

so you both suffer on your own for a bit

will eventually works up the courage to talk to you though, and that conversation ends with plans for a first date

finally being able to communicate with each other, the two of you always banish the others insecurities, sometimes with just the squeeze of a hand or a simple look

his friends are a lot to deal with, so you're super awkward around them at first, but you eventually grow into the group, and will couldn't be more thankful for it

[captainbobbin]

Ask game, TerraIsa or XemSai/XemIsa?

Thats a tough question. 

(long answer under the readmore :p)

The way I see it, they're both very similar - its a venn diagram of sorts, not just because Isa/Saix is in the centre. And I don't think I can pick just one over the other, because they're kind of rooted into one another.

For me, if you're doing moonrocks (Terra x Isa) stuff and doing it with some attachment to canon (as in, it isn't an au that's really out there) realistically there should be some element of XemSai in there somewhere. For Terra and Isa to connect in a (semi)canon way, I think there's gotta be some form of acknowledgement of 'oh yeah, Terra and Xemnas overlap one another in some ways, and Saix was connected to one and now potentially the other'.

I've shipped XemSai since KH2 came out;;; I was always super super into it. But then DDD happened, and there was the big Xehanort/possession reveal, and it kind of made me look at the whole relationship like 'Oh, this is for sure onesided. Like there is a powerplay going on here that is way deeper than a simple boss/employee' kind of thing.

I still love XemSai - as I hope you can all tell by the things I draw and write ahahah but I see it as a pairing as something kind of indulgent, physical and ultimately somewhat unhealthy. Neither of them are people, neither of them canonically get an eventual happy ending with the other, neither of them have real emotions. So as a relationship it's kind of parasocial - there's a sense of use, of gain, of just getting by and having the other near as a means of temporary comfort. Sure, in time they could have grown hearts and learned to love, but a large aspect of both characters is tragedy. Saix has been screwed over time and time again and is continuously at a loss, always letting aspects of himself go to waste and be ruined by others. Xemnas wants to be many things, wants to understand the heart, wants to figure things out and remember what love is like - but he can't. The two of them together don't make a whole - its all just a temporary fix that helps them forget the worst of it. Thats not even getting into the fact that Saix was actively trying to take the Org down from within.

I'm currently writing a piece which kind of looks at the relationship under the lens of 'what is real and what is fake anymore? How much of this is an act, and at what point did I just begin to go along with things? Why does it not bother me that my plans have changed, and now I see myself reluctant to let this person go?' and I think that is something I really like about XemSai. The basis of it all is just. Surviving. Doing what you have to. Seeking out what you can when you have (and are) nothing. It isn't something that starts off nor ends nicely, in a way. Neither of them are people. Neither of them are good.

(In general, I just love writing XemSai stuff where there is an undertone of ‘oh this will not end well, but they just can’t help themselves. They are all they've got.’)

Terra and Isa, meanwhile, have room to grow. After so long of being separated into parts of themselves they're people again, able to reflect on mistakes and learn, form bonds that are actually real. They have flaws and may slip up from time to time, may need to reassess who they are as people, but now it is something genuine and without a sense of dread and distrust hanging over them. They both share a lot of attributes and can see themselves in the other - and the bond they have can be one that is realistic, organic, and healthy. Not just healthy - but healing. They can lean on one another without fear, face aspects of themselves they were unsure about, look at internal self-issues knowing that there is someone nearby that gets it. Amongst all the pain and darkness and past cruelty and possession between them, there is more of a sense of innocence to it all - they're both picking up pieces of themselves and trying to find how it all fits together, working out how to go forward, figuring out how their hearts have brushed against each other in the past.

That, and its post 3 - after reconsiling, after moving on a little, after having others nearby. They have people around them that want the best for them. The situation has changed and so have they. All around, things have improved and now they can improve themselves. Together, hopefully.

I think moonrocks has a more sweet sentimentality and an aspect of continuous improvement and gentleness where XemSai's flavor is darker, richer, and laced with an undertone of regret. I've joked before that Moonrocks is just XemSai with extra steps but there is far more to it than that. Terra is such a wonderful character that has so much more to him than is on the surface, and the separation of Saix and Isa is something I really enjoy delving into.

I love both and am gonna be continuing to make content about both :)

lmao sorry for the essay. tl;dr - both very very good for similar but different reasons and my life revolves around them both hahahha

(Obligatory link to my written work where I channel these kind of vibes teehee :p)

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

BFF WHAT WERE YOUR THOUGHTS ON VOLUME 2??

BFF IM GLAD YOU ASKED, HERES A LIST OF STUFF I REMEMBER OFF THE TOP OF MY MIND

Spoilers below (obv)

NANCY?? Really thought she was gonna die right out the gate but I'm so glad she didn't

That "Byler" scene in the van...

Honestly I'm already so numb to this shit and the near identical parallels to me and an ex friend of mine since s3 and Will and Mike I was just shut down completely and wasn't surprised or had any kind of noticeable reaction at all. I'm just numb cause that shit (literally almost exactly, including the abandoning me despite me telling them how much they were hurting me and bringing up past trauma and just said a half ass sorry and kept doing it, the breakdown and now I've got the weeping silently right in front of them and them not doing shit about it and even trying to change the subject). Except, ya know 🙃🙃🙃 they had to throw in the words like "mistake" and shit so salt in the wound, but that's fine cause it's not like they built it up during pride month of all times just to get more people to watch it so that we could be mocked and feel even more like a mistake, right??

Which brings me to my next point

ELLLLMAAAXXXXXXXX

Ya know what I've unintentionally rewrote my brain to forget the whole "byler/mileven" mess as much as humanly possible and only remember about three ships; Lumax, Elmax, and Jopper (aka mom and dad :D)

I thought I reached my capacity for loving Elmax in season 3 but I was 😭 so wrong 😭

Inject that shit in my VEINS

El learning not only her friends in general are in danger but Max specifically and immediately doing everything in her literal power to get to her and save her (I'm actually tearing up rn, it's affecting me too much) is replenishing everything in me

Like these girls had alone time for barely an hour and they decided for life: "this is my human, I'm gonna go to the ends of the earth to protect my human, build my human up. no one is like my human, my human is THE BEST and deserves the best. my human is one of my biggest sources of joy". That was mall rats and it's just been golden for those two ever since and I went into season 4 prepared for everything between these two to revert back to s2

But it was SO

MUCH

BETTER

For one thing, El's determination to save Max

HER DRAWING 😭😭😭😭

First of all... the sheer anger El must have been feeling towards Vecna to have ripped him away from Max as such velocity to knock him out as long as he was knocked out. It wasn't forever but consider how much time they got. She had to have been pissed

Max's plan to "run towards the light" and the things that make her happiest and a) that being the snowball where she had her moment with Lucas and danced with her friends b) she then saw no one else was there but El and assumed that was her mind saving her -- someone who brings light to her life

Her not believing she was real

Her not believing she was real

Her not believing she was real 😭

Still cupping at El's face and shoulders (in such a Max way, and El just being totally fine with it) like a lifeline in doubt and El lovingly taking her hand and cupping it and saying so sweetly

"I'm real"

And ofc the adorable "I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer !!"

And what I immediately had to re-watch like seven times and silently cheer in victory at like 3 am:

"Stay back," and "If you touch her again, I will kill you again"

I'm sorry but its all im thinking about

Oh god that and

Caleb's stellar performance that actually ripped my heart out, stomped on it and then put it in a blender (all of s4 honestly, he's always been amazing but they actually gave him room to really shine

It's the "Erica help" that murdered me and it's enough to make me tear up again just thinking about it [EDIT: okay I literally just learned that line was all caleb and OF COURSE IT WAS]

Everyone's performance in that scene honestly was unlike anything I've seen and so beyond intense but Caleb, as I've said, really got me

Max and Lucas love each other so much and if I don't see them go to the movies together in s5 I--

I'm not sure what I'll do

Ugh there's so much other stuff I haven't even mentioned (mainly cause Elmax is taking up my entire life) but

OH YEAH

EL AND LUCAS FINALLY INTERACTING AGAIN?!? HUGGING ?!

OH MY GOD EL AND HOPPER

I was literally so paranoid he was Vecna getting into El's mind actually that I couldn't properly enjoy it wasn't until she thanked Joyce I started to realize it might've been real and then when realized was SURE there wasn't anything left of the episode, I cried and went back and cried harder lmao 😭

Again, I'm sure there's more but that's all I can think of right now

Honestly it feels so good to rant - bestie what about you?? What did you think??

💕💕💕 - Yurtle

[witchthewriter]

Is it okay If i ask for three ships? Grishaverse, The 100 and harry potter.

Things About me:

I'm 5'3, isfp hufflepuff (does that matter??)

I like drawing, I am a bit of an artist stuck in art block but i draw whenever I'm inspired. I indulge in listening to music a lot since I don't really like silence when I'm alone for too long. For that being said, I like spending my time alone usually but sometimes I like the company of someone I'm close to. To be said I'm a bit of a loner and really quiet to the point someone might think I'm mute but I just don't have much or know what to talk about. I'm friendly, a bit timid and shy but I like being kind to others and don't mind discarding my plans for them. I tend to be angry or annoyed easily whenever I'm with people I don't really feel good about. At times I can be cranky and grumpy but I soften as well. I dislike going to the same place or doing the same things, It usually ruins my day like that, another thing i dislike are people with no morals. I also have a bit of fear of dogs and heights. Whenever I get excited I'm usually more talkative and open but later regretting it after. But overall I'm chill! I think abour what people think of be as a lot since I'm afraid of them thinking I'm weird. I can say I'm a bit of a people pleaser becausee I like being kind to people. I can be emotional and sensitive and get overwhelmed easily in big situations. I try to help as much as i can in situations even if it overwhelms me.

I hope didn't overshare 💀💀

Want to be shipped? Here be the instructions 🦋

Hey! Thank you so so much for participating my love <3

What each ship has in common:

⋆ Reserved/prefer to be around certain people ⋆ Stands up for what they believe in ⋆ Adaptable ⋆ Independent ⋆ Loyal

𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

Mal doesn't like the spotlight, he doesn't want to be with someone who he has to share with anyone else. And I think that's how you guys would connect. You said you don't like large groups and I really think he doesn't either. He prefers one on one.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・He likes to gift you things; your favourite food, jewellery, scarves, etc. Anything he thinks you'll like

・Will go to the ends of the earth to protect you

・Can see when you get nervous/overwhelmed and helps you instantly. Taking you aside and doing the deep breathing aid.

・Having a very flirty relationship

・Spending ALOT of time alone with each other - to the point where you forget that there is other people in the world

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝟎

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I chose John Murphy because I think you match well with characters who feel the strong need to protect/care for those they care about. However, it's different. Not like Clarke or Bellamy where they care for the whole group, no. With Murphy it's only you he cares about. Only you he would save the world for. Everyone else can suck it.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Probably being quiet enemies at first. Like you just went along with the group, hating Murphy. It wasn't until you got to know him that you felt comfortable enough to show your true opinions/personality.

・He LOVES seeing you smile!!!!!

・Expect him to throw hands at anyone who makes you uncomfortable

・It's you two against the world

・Knowing what each other is thinking without the other having to say a word

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I think Neville would be the best out of all these ships for you. In terms of you suited your personality, your likes and dislikes - especially the fact that you like to have your alone time. Or rather, spend your time with selective people.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Stands up for you no matter what - he will always have your back and defend you.

・PROTECTIVE AF; doesn't let anyone f*ck with his baby.

・Will literally take you anywhere you want to go; listens to your problems, I definitely feel like Neville would be the best bf

・HAND HOLDING HAND HOLDING OMG. Kissing your knuckles, the palm of your hand, the back of your hand

・Spending time together but no need for conversation. You can be doing completely different things but there's a comfortability between the two of you, that no one has to talk.