#i mean look if they survive this good for them

[justporo]

Hi JustPoro! I wanted to share an observation with you. Maybe you can turn this into some headcanon, fanfic or just share your thoughts on it? I just started my second BG run, romancing Astarion again. I didn't really see/notice it months ago on my first run, but now it's so obvious that when Astarion is sincere he always touches his own hands and fingers, like a tell. One moment he leans forward, looks you in the eye, spreads his arms, demanding all your attention. But the next moment he looks to the side, his words become smaller, he puts his hands in front his body and starts playing with his fingers, basically shrinking back into himself, even if he still smiles. It happens a few times and it's such a heartbreaking detail. How do you think the Tav would react when they first catch on to this?

Hi Anon, thank you so much for hopping in my inbox. And oh, this is a very good observation. So I wanted to write a little drabble about it.

If you see any typos: no you don't (it's not proofread, psst)

As a former thief you knew a tell when you saw one.

Because back in your thieving days it was part of your set of skills needed to survive. You had to know when someone was trying to rip you off. 

Astarion had a tell. Quite an obvious one too.

You hadn’t fully figured out yet what it was he was lying to you about or trying to hide from you. But it was clear that something was up, something going on behind these unusual crimson eyes, whenever he started to fidget with his hands.

Admittedly, you probably had figured it out as quickly as you did because you had stared at his hands quite often. They were beautiful hands: quite big, long, elegant and immaculately cared for fingers. You had to admit you had a thing for hands; but Astarion’s especially.

You knew exactly what those hands could do: from lockpicking even the meanest locks and making it look like magic in its own respect to dramatically being flailed around to underline the point the vampire was making; to oh so easily finding this delicate spot between your legs, caressing it, toying with it, making you lose your mind - with nothing but a touch of those fingers.

But the physical intimacy you had shared didn’t mean you were on the same terms in other aspects of your relationship.

And so the first time you noticed Astarion’s small nervous habit you didn’t let it show that you had noticed. It had been a delicate subject obviously. One of those rare moments where the vampire let precious details of his past slip.

From just the few things he had shared with you, you could imagine the horrors he must have lived through.

And from the way his body gave him away, you were sure of the pain it still caused him.

It was when his shoulders fell, his whole body basically folding in on himself from his usual cocksure flamboyant posture and attitude. His ruby eyes seemed leagues and eons away, still lingering agony swimming in them.

Those were the moments where unconsciously he started to nervously play around with his hands, obviously not even noticing. Tugging on the fingers of the other hand, pressing the thumb into the palm of the other - as if trying to give himself at least a bit of reassurance or to pull himself back by the pressure applied. And then the moment quickly passed again. Hands falling to his side again.

And so you took note but remained silent.

Until this fateful night back at Moonrise towers when Astarion had made a confession to you, you hadn’t ever expected.

Immediately it had been obvious how upsetting and strenuous it must have been for him to bring himself to even bring it up with you. So much so that you were sure he must be close to ripping his own fingers off judging by the way he worked while he opened up about his feelings for you.

So if this wasn’t the moment which would it ever be? As Astarion kept speaking you stepped closer, his eyes immediately growing big and round. So obviously afraid. Not of but of what he feared was about to happen. His words died on his lips as the vampire could only stand and watch, positively becoming a statue. His hands froze in position in front of his chest.

That’s where you gently grabbed them from with your own. He let you. Too shocked to react in any other kind of way.

“Did you notice,” you began as you started to gently massage them “that you tug on your hands when you’re upset or nervous or…” You blushed a little as you didn’t manage to finish your question, letting your gaze drop from his to where his hands were mingled with yours.

“I do?” Astarion replied bewildered, fully thrown off his groove and what he had planned to say.

You nodded, still not able to look up at him again, but kept softly soothing his fingers.

Silence fell between you as you kept going, feeling how your warmth spread to him.

After a long while you found the courage to look Astarion in the eyes again. He seemed transformed. A gentle smile was tugging on his lips, eyes full of warmth and kindness. None of that fearful behaviour that made him sink into himself but also none of the cocky performance he so often put on.

Instead, Astarion seemed genuine. Probably more so than you had seen him be this far.

And when he finally continued his speech, you felt more of that. All while you kept holding onto his hands. And - as you felt by the end of it - as he was holding onto yours.

Later, you of course still noticed those moments when Astarion nervously toyed around with his hands. But now you had no good reason to not go and do something about it.

So, whenever you noticed it happening you softly grabbed his hands, untangled his fingers and wrapped them with yours. Or pressed your palm against his. Or kissed his fingers one by one. Until the moment had passed.

And later still, when Astarion had started to learn to rely on you, you found he sometimes came to you, grabbing your hands for a bit of support. You squeezed his in reassurement and let your thumb wander over the back of his hand in these moments - until he squeezed back. A silent thank you, you’ve come to know.

[rebelliousstories]

Toxic as Rads

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @silverose365

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Strong Language, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,307

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: They had not been alright for a long time. They would breakup, and then make up. A vicious cycle with no foreseeable end.

“Damnit Coop! I am so sick and tired of running in these damn circles.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be chasin’ your own bullshit.”

This had been going on for hours now. The couple had holed up in an abandoned facility that was still somehow standing after all the years, and bombs. Neither one could remember what this argument was about this time, but that is how they worked. They would fight. They would make up. And they would do it all again the next day.

It did not used to be like this though. They used to be happy, and in love.

~

“Listen, I just need someone to show me the ropes. I was thrown out here and I don’t wanna die.” A feminine voice pleaded with a cowboy that was busy walking away.

“Don’t do charity cases, darlin’. Not even if they’re cute like you, Vaultie.” His voice was growing more and more distant.

“Hey! Ghoul, you want this back?” Turning back around, Cooper found that she was holding a gun, and a box of chems. Patting himself down, he found that he was missing one of his guns, and his box of chems. He marched right up to the girl with a low growl.

“Gimme that, little girl. You don’t know what that’s gonna do.” He tried to get his effects back, but what unsuccessful. Cooper tried again, and finally got them back, but she just swiped his hat off of his head while his hands were full.

“Listen here, I don’t do no damn charity cases.” The Ghoul grabbed his hat back once he had stashed his gun and chems.

“Please. I’m really good at stealing. I can get you anything you want.” She begged once more, looking close to getting on her knees.

“Anything I want?” He pressed, watching in amusement as her head nodded up and down fast.

“Alright, Vaultie. Let’s see what you’re made of.” He turned on his heel and left, smirking as the vault dweller was hot on them to follow.

~

“Coop, I am tired of this shit. Can you just trust me to do a job, or do fuckin’ anything?” She screamed, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Well then maybe you should make it easy and go. Not like I expected a damn vault dweller to stay around me like a lost puppy.” He thought to himself, but did not realize that he had actually said it aloud. Cooper watched as the horror morphed into melancholy on her face. With her face, he finally realized his mistake.

“Darlin’, now I didn’t mean that. Come here.” Cooper tried to gather her in his arms, but she slipped out faster than him. She ran around the room and collected her items that were strewn about, trying to get them on faster than Cooper could get to her.

“Sweetheart, you know that’s not what I meant. I was just upset. Please let’s talk this through. No need to do anything rash.” But she had bolted out the front door before he ever got there, and ran into the night. Howard tried to follow her, but there was a reason she was good at stealing; she was also amazing at not being found. Looking out into the night sky, Cooper screamed to the heavens, although he knew no one would hear his call of despair. Retreating back into the building, he threw, kicked, and hit anything he could get his hands on. Once his rage had been exhausted, Cooper made sure he had all of his gear with him, before he set out into the night.

By day three, he was pissed. Cooper should be proud; he had trained her on how to survive in the Wasteland and avoid detection. But this was him, using his own tracking skills to track down on someone he had personally trained. The fact that she was staying a step a head was impressive and infuriating. He had followed her near a settlement; a very familiar settlement. This was the same town that he had gotten her from all those years ago. It was a little more rundown, but the structures still stood as strong as they could.

“God damnit woman.” Cooper knelt down to collect a familiar pouch that held a vintage camera with a little bit of film left. They had found it together their first year traveling together and she took every opportunity to get pictures together. He knew the negatives on that film were all of him, or of them together. Why she dropped it, he did not know. But it could not have been a good reason. Strapping it into his own pouch on his saddle bag, Cooper made his way around the town. People moved out of his way as he moved, but he could not find her there. If she came all the way back here, why was she still avoiding him?

That is when a thought came into his head. Leaving the designated town, Howard stalked along the sides, and found a house on the outskirts. This house had remained abandoned the entire time he had been coming here for some reason or another. He did not particularly care to remember why it remained empty. There was a shift of fabric that he could hear from the front door. Making his way into the house, Cooper heard the soft sniffles and quiet cries of his woman as he grew closer and closer to the bedroom.

The door was halfway open, which meant he could not have snuck up on her even if he wanted to. And the sight inside made his heart hurt. She was curled up on the bed with blankets and pillows. It looked more like a nest than a bed, but she found herself in the middle of it all.

“Go away.” Her voice was hoarse as it tried to spit out and sound meaner than she actually sounded.

“Now, I think you don’t really want that darlin’.” Cooper replied, placing his hat on the bedpost at the foot of the bed/nest situation.

“You don’t know what I want. Besides, I’m just some stupid vault dweller who follows you around like a lost puppy. Figured you’d be having a damn party with me gone.” Turning further and further away, the scratch to her voice almost made it like a growl. Howard shrugged off his duster and threw the rest of his guns, belts, and bags into a chair in the corner before encroaching upon her space. She tried to push him off, but he kept wrapping his arms around her to pull her into his chest.

“I’m sorry for what I said, darlin’. Didn’t mean what I said.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, and squeezed her closer while her arms dropped in defeat.

“I just don’t understand why you would say that if you didn’t mean it.” She lamented.

“Was just angry darlin’. Not at you. Just- we’ve been fightin’ a lot. We never used to and it seems every day we’re findin’ somethin’ to get pissed off about.” He replied, settling into the comfortable bed.

“I know. ‘M sorry for running. Just didn’t know how to deal with it all.” Rolling over, she tucked her face into Cooper’s chest and smushed them closer together.

“No need to apologize sweetheart,” came his response. He pressed another kiss, this time to her forehead, and started to stroke her hair.

“Oughta redden your ass though. Makin’ me chase you all over this damn desert.” Cooper teased, his gloved hand reaching down to give her rear a teasing squeeze.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Ghoul.” She teased back, snuggling in closer. They were not perfect, that was for certain. But from that point forward, they would be doing better.

[pomrania]

Could They Survive Investigating Kira?

To clarify, this is about the Kira murders from Death Note, not the other manga/anime which has a serial murderer named Kira who kills via supernatural means. Insert "two nickels" meme here.

@couldtheycatchkira asks if a given character could catch Kira, and would they survive. Here, I'm focusing on the second part, and how to consider it. I've broken it down into four major questions:

Are they capable of dying (and staying dead)?

Are they capable of being killed by the Death Note?

Would Kira be able to kill them?

Would Kira choose to kill them?

1. Are they capable of dying (and staying dead)?

If a character cannot die, cannot be killed by any method whatsoever, won't even die from old age, then they survive investigating Kira; they survive ANY circumstance. You don't need to look at any further question, in order to get your answer (although you might choose to, just for enjoyment purposes).

Under this category, I'd also include characters with explicit good luck and/or uncanny ability to survive situations that should have killed them, where they're theoretically capable of dying, but circumstances arrange themselves such that it never actually happens. Not to be confused with "protagonist immortality", where a character survives because if they died the story would be over; this is a character who basically has indirect immortality as a superpower. Or they could fall under the category of "God's favourite chew-toy", where some higher (or lower) power simply won't let them die or stay dead.

Conversely, is the character capable of SURVIVING? In other words, how inherently doomed are they? If they were in a story where "character death" is a possibility, are they a character who's guaranteed to die? Note that this is distinct from being "doomed by the narrative", because that's doomed by ONE PARTICULAR narrative, and "getting Kira-murdered while investigating" might or might not fit their narrative doom.

This is also where I raise the issue of resurrection, and limited immortality. If a character dies but comes back to life, then they count as "surviving"; they need to STAY dead, in order to count as "does not survive". And if they're generally immortal (or at least unkillable), but can be killed under certain specific circumstances, then the question moves to "would Kira be able to figure out, and create, those circumstances".

2. Are they capable of being killed by the Death Note?

If they're immune to Kira's only real weapon, then they won't be killed by Kira; and unless they're otherwise doomed (see above), they'd survive.

Some characters, while capable of dying, outrank shinigami, or have connections that equate to such. The Death Note wouldn't work on them, for similar reasons as how an employee can't fire the head of their company.

Then there's non-human characters. This can be tricky, because in the world of Death Note, there's humans and there's shinigami, and the Note explicitly works on humans but not shinigami. To keep things fun and interesting, I'd say that any type of sapient mortal counts as a potential Death Note victim in the same way "human" does, because otherwise it gets boring; blanket immunity should be reserved for characters who specifically have it.

As for non-sapient and/or non-mortal characters… I don't have any overarching advice for them, except maybe see if you get a definitive answer in the next questions, and if not then you can use "might or might not be able to be killed by the Death Note" as a tie-breaker.

I think this is also the level to look at "characters who couldn't die from a heart attack". The Death Note CAN kill via other methods, but "heart attack" is the default. For this, you need to consider if Kira would REALIZE that simply writing the character's name down (to give them a heart attack) wouldn't suffice, and if he'd be able to figure out a method that WOULD work; but that shades into the next question.

3. Would Kira be able to kill them?

There's two major categories to this question; the issues Kira ran into in his story, and issues we get from characters who aren't "baseline human". I'll start with the second category.

Some characters have unorthodox death requirements, like non-human biology (or equivalent processes if non-biological), or limited immortality. Would Kira be able to figure out that he needs to do something different to kill them, and would he be able to figure out WHAT he needs to do?

Then, the "standard" issues, and what people first think of when they consider "would this character survive investigating Kira". In order for Kira to be able to kill someone, he first needs to know that they exist; then, their full name and how to spell it, and what their face looks like. If he doesn't have all three of those, then that character is safe from being Kira-murdered (but might still die in other ways).

4. Would Kira choose to kill them?

This factor seems to get neglected a lot, judging from the amount of times I've seen "lol they're a public figure, they'll die immediately". But Kira doesn't kill everyone whose identity he knows, because otherwise he'd be easy to locate, as the epicentre of mass death.

First, does the character fit his normal victim profile? If so, then he tries to kill them (which might or might not succeed, as detailed in the previous three questions), even if he doesn't know that they're investigating him.

Next, does he consider them a potential threat? If he doesn't know the character is even INVESTIGATING him, or if he thinks they're incompetent as an investigator, or if he believes he's sufficiently outsmarted them, then they're not a threat, and he has no reason to kill them.

Finally, does he have a reason NOT to kill them? Does he believe they should be left alive, on their own merits; or, more commonly, does he feel that they'd pose more of a threat to him dead than alive? For example, this could be them having information that would get sent out automatically upon their death, or being in a situation where suspicion would fall on him specifically if they die in an unnatural manner.

[drjholtzmann]

going thru the drafts. this one was originally a fluffbruary prompt (whoops) but i chickened out

shower | blessed | layer

Dream is already in the kitchen when Hob gets home. Clattering through the door in a flurry of muffled curses and rustling fabric. He shucks off his coat and violently jabs it onto the coat hook, continuing to curse his way out of his shoes before standing upright again, flicking soaking wet hair back off his face. 

“Hello, stranger.” He says, aiming for casual but falling a little closer to perfunctory, unable to fully hide his frustration. 

“You’re –” Dream’s deep voice begins softly as Hob rushes to add, “I know – I’m late, I know.”

Dream, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders square, resting in one of Hob’s kitchen chairs, does not move to finish his sentence. 

“‘Light morning showers’, my eye,” Hob mutters murderously as he passes Dream and the kitchen table and continues to clatter on into the kitchen. “Fucking pissing down all afternoon! Shoes are soaked. Thought my jacket would be enough for light showers so I didn’t take a sodding umbrella, like a fucking bellend. The tube was disgusting – full of everyone trying to get out of the rain. So it was full of rainwater and the water-soaked public which, let me tell you, is a particular bouquet I don’t need to experience again in a hurry. Not at the end of a work day. I mean – you want some of this?” He pauses, wine bottle in one hand, glass in another, gesturing with the bottle towards Dream. Dream inclines his head. “I mean say what you will about the past,” Hob continues, placing the first glass down and grabbing out a second, “plenty of smells of all kinds. But at least we didn’t have fuckin’ Lynx Africa. A tube full of B.O., soaked woollen suits, stale air, muddy rainwater, all coated with the chemical tang of Lynx fucking Africa?” He gags and pours a generous, sloshing glass of red. “Adding insult to injury. Didn’t know how good we had it.” He spins the cap back onto the bottle with a metallic little hiss. “Anyway,” he places the second glass down in front of Dream. “How was your day?”  

At this Dream stands, eyes passing over Hob’s hair, falling to his shoulders, then down to his feet. “You are wet.”

“Yeah. Did you not hear the whole vitriolic spiel just now?” 

Dream looks at him like he’s stupid. “You are still in your wet clothes.” He clarifies, emphasising each word even more than usual, his eyes glinting with mockery.

Hob swallows his mouthful of wine. “Yeah, well.”

“Your socks, at least.” Dream suggests. And Hob makes a show of rolling his eyes, putting his wineglass down, and slouching back to the door.

He bends to pull off his sodden socks, and they hit the floor with a wet and heavy splat. “Meugh,” his lip curls. His eyes slide back to Dream and he resists rolling them. “Happy?” He crows, arms wide.

“Are you?”

He wiggles his damp toes against the floorboards, head tilting to the side. “Better. At least.” He concedes. 

“You ought to get out of your wet layers.” 

“When did you become mother hen?” But by now Hob is struggling to keep up the fever pitch of his frustration, a smile starting to tug at his words. 

“If you do not want my help…” Dream turns his back on him, picking up his wineglass.

“No! No. Of course I do.” He’s still playing along with the teasing, but it’s true. Always. And Dream knows it. He turns towards Hob again, a smug little smile hiding behind the rim of his glass. Hob holds his hands out to his sides, letting them fall back against his thighs. “Help me?” 

Dream scoffs, but the smirk is still in place as he sets his glass down and walks over to Hob in the entryway. “How you survived centuries between our meetings I will never know,” he tuts, plucking at Hob’s unbuttoned overshirt, slipping it down off his shoulders, then free from each wrist. 

“Made a deal with a lady.” Hob parries back, but it sounds distant even to him, far too hypnotised by watching Dream’s movements to commit to continuing their banter.

“Mm. Quite.” Dream draws the neck of Hob’s t-shirt between his thumb and forefinger and, assessing that it, too, is insufficiently dry, pulls it upwards. Hob is pliant, and increasingly calm in his grip. 

Hob is shirtless for barely a second before there is a soft warmth sliding up his arms. Something that looks a little like a smoking jacket but feels more like a soft fleecy dressing gown has been conjured within Dream’s palm and his being fitted neatly across his shoulders. It feels like sinking into a warm bath. The warmth between sleep and wakefulness. The heavy-muscled heat of laying close to a fire for long night hours. And Hob can’t help the full-body contented sigh that comes out of him. He feels his shoulders relax down an entire inch. His head almost falls forward, eyes closed, ready to drop right off to sleep. 

“Is that not better?”

“Mm,” Hob shuffles closer. “Better,” he agrees, curling his hands into the sweeping lapels of Dream’s coat and, allowing his eyes to finally close, drops his head against Dream’s shoulder. 

“We are only half done.” Dream says after several seconds of silence and stillness from Hob. 

Hob huffs against his neck. “You just wanna see me in my pants. Cheeky.” 

“You’re impossible.” Hob can hear the smile in Dream’s words. Smiles in return, hidden against his neck, as Dream’s hands snake around his back and hold him in a warm, impossibly fond embrace. And Hob melts against him a little further. 

“S’me. Impossible. Wearing a robe my love just conjured from the ether. Which is very normal.”

“I only wish for you to be comfortable.”

“I am, love,” he promises, voice soft, all fight and frustration drained from him. “So comfy. 'n I promise I’ll take off the trousers in a minute.” He sighs, deep and cleansing. “Can we just go to bed? I know it’s still early but fuck I’d love this day to be over.”

Dream’s hands press tighter against him, soothing up and down his back. “You will hear no complaints from me,” he murmurs against Hob’s temple, pressing a featherlight kiss into his hair.

[highvern]

Seventeen as Pokemon Trainers

Genre: humor, crack

Note: partially inspired by @ugh-yoongi bts as pokemon gym leaders v fun way to break up the fic im working on. thinking about doing ateez if i get the inspo

m.list

Seungcheol

our leader but also the biggest baby girl. retired champion and uses the same team from his youth to this day. He’ll randomly show up places like some old man, talk about the good old days, and wait for someone to challenge him. The only person whose managed to best him is Jeonghan and his damn clefairy

team: charizard, dragonair, bronzong, spiritomb, lapras, aerodactyl

Jeonghan

If you’re in the woods alone, Jeonghan will approach and ask for help while his pokemon pickpocket you. He likes the cute pokemon and has maxed them all out so he can scam people into battles and oneshot their entire team. Word on the street is his jigglypuff is wanted in multiple countries for tax evasion

team: tinkaton, jigglypuff, espeon, tandemaus, mime jr., clefairy

Joshua

Gym leader and one of the first gyms you encounter. Copied the elite four in the sense that once you enter his gym you can’t leave unless you defeat everyone. Bug types are weak so he makes up for it by being a lunatic. Likes bug pokemon bc they freak people out. He’s more interested in people’s reaction to his team than winning but that doesn’t mean he’ll let up

team: vespiquen, drapion, gardevoir, dustox, parasect, galvantula

Jun

Cats and cat adjacent. He’s literally just some guy that hangs around town and feeds the stray cats in hopes they’ll follow him home. So fars hes be successful. likes to have a staring contest with espurr that usual ends with them both falling asleep with their eyes open.

team: espurr, litten, purugly, glaceon, liepard, delcatty

Hoshi

Gym leader and electric type enthusiast. Arcanine is the exception bc tiger is life. You hear him before you see him and if you do see him it’s probably because he's flying thirty feet in the air from a well timed thunderbolt courtesy of his Jolteon he can’t help but pet when thinking. one of the best gym leaders, also defeated the elite four but by then cheol was champion and hoshi learned a valuable lesson on why you shouldn't brag about winning with a one type team

team: luxray, jolteon, arcanine, electivire, zebstrika, emolga

Wonwoo

All of his pokemon are from when he was an edgy teen and thought they made him look more intimidating because he wanted to be a gym leader. He’s mellowed out now and mostly battles for fun. A lot people think he’s scary but then he opens his mouth and goes on a 45 minute spiel about his absol’s favorite bedtime story and why hydreigon is simply misunderstood

team: hydreigon, absol, garchomp, mismagius, banette, lucario

Woozi

Works out with his team so it's survival of the fittest. People think he’s intimidating because he is but actually very chill. Constantly asked why he doesn’t become a gym leader and the answer is always the same: he doesn’t w4ant to. He is content to sit back and watch Hoshi act like a psycho. Doesn’t really battle much but when he does his opponent is in for a world of hurt.

team: poliwrath, metagross, gallade, gigalith, hariyama, infernape

Seokmin

Every pokemon he has starts with “well its actually a funny story…” dodrio just started following him home and seokmin was too scared to tell it to leave, same with lickilicky… and marill… and pikachu. But they’re basically a captive audience for his shenanigans and he sometimes will busk with chatot and makes a good amount of money

team: meganium, lickilicky, chatot, dodrio, marill, pikachu

Mingyu

Aims for balance. Very bro with his pokemon except Cleffa who is carried around in one of those child wraps. Not on the journey to become champion, more so just wants to see the world with his besties. You can find him sleeping in a cuddle puddle with his team after sitting around the fire and eating too many marshmallows.

team: raichu, empoleon, emboar, tauros, cleffa, steelix

Minghao

Appreciates the beauty of pokemon, especially ghost/dark/fairy. they fit his aesthetic. Has a few randoms to throw people off. You can find him sitting in a field under a full moon while they all meditate or just standing in a cave marveling at the nature (right before he sends you hightailing the way you came)

team: toxicroak, gengar, musharna, murkrow, houndoom, drifblim

Seungkwan

My island boy… also a jock. Not a gym leader but a notoriously difficult trainer you meet later on the beach. His team is as sassy as he is and has no issue KO’ing everyone, including you. Hope you know how to swim!

team: blastoise, lopunny, ambipom, azumarill, milotic, blaziken

Vernon

Average Mr. Chwe. Sometimes he’ll compete in tournaments if he’s bored or one of his friend’s drags him around. His team gets odd looks given he picked a few because they make him laugh but ngl they love him and are shockingly good in battle.

team: sudowoodo, slugma, squirtle, munchlax, mr. rime, combusken

Chan

Living his ash ketchum fantasy. Next champion but Seungcheol keeps threatening to come out of retirement just to fuck with him. Josh sought him out just to KO his team before he even reached the first gym town. Hoshi found him on a random beach and let him win just so when he got to his gym Hoshi could destroy his team several times before Chan managed to land a single attack. 

team: ivysaur, ninetales, krookodile, shelgon, gyarados, larvitar

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[eldritch-spouse]

Relax, I know he's big and the phalluses are uh, intimidating but the subject is extremely docile. Who knew aliens would be so–why is he out of containment?

You're frozen. Catatonic.

You remember watching videos of animals in the wild becoming completely unresponsive when approached by predators, how the only thing you could see were their eyes, wide and frantic, and their chests heaving as they seemed to be praying to survive.

Those videos were so funny, right? Well, you're not laughing now...

The lifeform, the alien, the creature you had yet to see, that they'd been easing you into the idea of meeting so that it wouldn't be a colossal shock- Just effortlessly tore down the pressurized, extremely high-tech door to its cell. You didn't even know those doors could come flying off like that.

In seconds, mere stunned moments, the entity you can't even call a monster is staring you down. He's giant, truly, but gaunt like a beanstalk, all flowing limbs and unearthly elegance. You can't count the tentacles that comprise his lower body, you can't focus on the fins of his extremely human arms, the bizarre depressions on his chest area, and the only reason you know him as male is because of the mention of phalluses.

Curiously, he doesn't look hostile.

But he's very much focused on you, and that's not ideal.

It's as if he sensed you through the cell, somehow, and that caught his attention.

A large, water-filled glass dome envelops his head, but you can still very much sense those glazed eyes studying you from top to bottom. Like any human would, he procures eye contact before attempting to communicate.

But unfortunately, he doesn't converse in a language you can gouge.

A myriad of croons envelop the room, these soft tingling sounds that feel just barely within reach of your eardrums. The... Appendage, sprouting from the top of his head sways, an assortment of warm hues gently fading in and out.

Pink. Orange. Pink. Maroon. Pink. Shock pink. White. Pink blinking.

What is this, Simon Says?

He leans down, and trembling, you glance at the intern beside you in a desperate plea for help.

They look utterly fascinated by the interaction. Panicked, but amazed. You have no idea whether or not that's good for you.

Finally, they seem to come to their senses and realize that you are probably seconds away from pissing yourself if nothing is done.

" Okay. Okay- Listen to me. " They start murmuring, an audible gulp follows. Your eyes twitch to the worker, but you don't dare stare at them long enough to lose track of the literal alien.

" Like I said, he's very docile. There's no reason for him to attack you right now. In fact he's... Nevermind. "

What the fuck do they mean nevermind?!

" I need you to not move too suddenly, and don't scream, okay? "

You nod quietly, looking at the still pink-flashing light above their head. He dangles it in front of his face, as close to the glass as he can, as if to make sure you're getting the message. You hope pink signifies friendliness.

" What- What do I do now? " You whisper.

The intern looks at you like they themself aren't quite sure.

" U- Uhm... Let- Let me contact my- "

Out of nowhere, what you can only call a bark of noise rings out through the room.

This extremely loud sound that immediately frightens you, sharp and rough like a branch cracking but amplified a thousand times. Even now, it feels like it's still echoing within your eardrums.

Did he do that? Did something in the building just break?!

You shrieked, because of course you did, eyes nearly bulging out your skull when you realize the employee told you specifically not to scream.

They're looking at you with a tight-lipped grimace, finger poised over what you presume is a contact on their phone.

There isn't even time for you to say your last words, some kind of message for your family or even just a plea for help.

The alien reacts to your agitated noise quickly, but not at all in the way you'd expect. Instead of perhaps lunging to crack your neck like a twig or slashing your face off, the entity grabs you with both arms by the chest, lifts you into the air, and slides inside the cell it was previously contained in. The clutch is what prevented you from screaming again.

Once again, you channel the wisdom of prey animals in nature documentaries by staying absolutely stock still, and allowing the foreign lifeform to do whatever it wants. He keeps flashing colors at you in patterns you don't recognize, but involve a lot of pink tones. Purple now. Long and pudgy looking digits start poking at your outfit here and there, and you spot something rippling under the mass of his front, along that large opening you had never given much thought to until now.

It looks like something's bursting out of him...

Oh God, oh fuck what is that-

You blink, open-mouthed, at what has to be a dick. Some kind of wriggling, prehensile appendage tipped with a much too human-looking phallus. It flattens against your midsection, and you shudder in confusion. Confusion that soon grows into barely contained hysteria as more bizarre and unique extremities keep slithering out of his insides- What is he, made of cocks?

" S- Some help here?! " You finally manage to nearly sob out.

The worker is frantically trying to appease someone on the other end of their phone, picking at their collar while they watch you get vaguely harassed by an excited extraterrestrial.

" No, no sir he's never done that before- I-... No, I didn't- Sir, he tore the whole door off I can't just lock- " Their eyes widen as more hues of purple keep being flashed your way, like something horrendous is about to happen. " Get- Please get here quickly, I'm begging you! "

By the time they hurriedly mash the end call button and try to stuff their phone into a tight uniform, the alien already gently pried most of your shirt off, cooing some kind of melody that fails to lull you into calmness, which is understandable when a variety of reproductive organs are hovering far too close to your bare skin. Some of them are so... Strange. There's no stopping the thoughts of how they might be used.

Footsteps sound, and as soon as the worker tries to get within grabbing range of you, an already ballsy move in your eyes, the subject makes another powerful sound, the depressions in his chest vibrating while you groan in pain.

The filament in the alien's head swells significantly, blasting a color that your brain simply fails to comprehend, seeing it as a flash of pure black that momentarily blinds you before you have the wisdom to look away, trembling in his grasp.

The employee makes some kind of pained noise, you can hear the squeaking of their shoes as they run out the room and...

Leave you to your own devices.

Lord help you.

[sinimake]

Opposites-Attract headcanons of Johnshi

I love putting opposing traits to my ships more than anything so enjoy!

Kenshi is pretty low maintenance. All he needs is clothes on his back and Sento, that's it. Probably can survive zombie apocalypse on his own while Johnny must have his grooming essentials with 10-step skin routine, a cup of coffee with the exact milk-sugar ratio at 9am sharp in the morning or he will DIE

Johnny is glued to his phone, always taking pics and documenting things while Kenshi doesn't even know where the fuck is his phone half the time

Also Johnny is texter and Kenshi is caller/voice message sender

When Kenshi is angry, he blazes like fire. One look at him and you know he's fucking pissed. While Johnny is silent rager. He will appear fine and brush off things convincingly good with his acting skills till he snaps. Like ocean pulling back its tides just to slam whole ass tsunami upon its victims.

They're both ambiverts but different flavors of ambiverts. Johnny makes friends with everyone, always chats and charms. He somehow knows the lifestories of people he met even briefly. However Johnny gets overwhelmed a lot that he needs his down time or he will start becoming murderous. Kenshi, on the other hand, rather die than make a small talk but he is a natural leader who can read people very well.

Johnny is chronically online and Kenshi is deliberately internet illiterate

People think Johnny is the rulebreaker while Kenshi's the voice of reason but they get it so wrong. Johnny is all about being pompous and mischievous but when the shit starts becoming serious and so much real, he panics. Kenshi though? He will charge head first into a trouble swinging and crackling. He didn't want to break the rules, but if it must, Kenshi will twist that notch to extreme.

Johnny is a picky eater and Kenshi will eat anything. That's why Johnny cooks almost all the time bc their criterias for "food" are vastly different.

Johnny exists in the public eye. He thrives in people's love and attention while Kenshi is shunned and feared for his past in the crime organization.

Kenshi is paranoid while Johnny is bit too confident sometimes

Johnny thrives on routine and schedule since he's a busy celebrity, he plans ahead and sticks to it. On the other hand, Kenshi just goes along with wherever the wind takes him.

However, when it comes to training, Kenshi is all about going by the book. Breathing exercises, meditation, stances, katas, footwork, practices, and everything, he follows them through to build up discipline. But Johnny? He just wings it bc it's all natural talent, baby! If you ask him how he does some moves, he will just shrug and say "it feels right that way"

Their fighting styles differ, too. Johnny is light on feet, flexible, fast, and slips through guards like a shadow. Kenshi is grounded, steady, tough, and even his blade swings are focused on elbow movements than in wrists.

Adding on the previous point, Johnny's name is a reverse pun of Kage, which means "shadow" in Japanese. On the other hand, Sento's powers are represented through glowing lights, hence creating the opposite elements of Light and Shadow in Johnshi

[zvdvdlvr]

Cherry Flavored

🍒 - Synopsis. Cherry farm + hopelessly in love + kissing.

🍒 - Warnings. Fast paced. Fighting. Concussion. Kissing.

It was late April, sun making the days hotter and longer. The gang had settled near Valentine, a small and tightly-knit town. In true womanly outlaw fashion, you politely introduced yourself and made yourself look as innocent and harmless as possible (the thing with appearing innocent and normal? you had three distinctive claw marks running down your face from when John got the both of you stranded on a mountain.)

Almost a week after settling down, Arthur Morgan had gotten into a bad bar fight. Luckily you, Lenny, Javier, Charles, and Bill were there to help fend off the irregularly large man from beating the life out of Arthur.

Though you definitely blew your cover of an innocent woman, Arthur won the fight.

In the aftermath of that fight, Arthur had let you pull him onto your horse and ride off into the night: putting as much distance from the incident as possible.

“Yeh alright?” Arthur asked, gravely voice low and close to your ear.

“‘M alright. I should be asking you that question, Arthur,” you replied.

“You know I can survive more’n that,” he grumbled. Arthur rested his bloodied forhead on your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to make a mess of things… I know you was gettin’ along fine with some of those people.”

You shrugged the shoulder Arthur wasn’t leaning on. Protected by your ribcage, your heart rate beat faster. “You’re more important- the gang is more important.”

Arthur’s eyes closed at your words. He wished more than anything he could feel normal afyer you said that. You’re more important. If only you knew how important you were to Arthur. He stayed quiet, the arms wrapped around your waist to stay steady tightened.

“Don’t fall asleep, Arthur,” you murmured. “You probably have one of those concussions- a bad one, if I had to guess.”

“Yes ma’am,” Arthur groaned, bringing his head up and focusing on the moon. Yeah, the world may be spinning, but at least you were there to take care of him.

Slowly, you eased your horse to a stop. You let Arthur dismount before following suit. As you patred the neck of your horse, you watched Arthur wobble on his legs beside you.

The man surveyed the area, a small farmhouse and crop growing about twent feet away from where you stood.

“Do you like cherries?” You asked. You linked your arm in Arthur’s and lead him closer to the crop. “The family here grows some damn good ones. They’re good for detox, but might make ya tired,” you said.

Arthur watched you reach out for a cherry and pluck it off the plant. You offered him one, and reached for your own. Arthur hadn’t had cherries in so long, he himself didn’t even know if he liked them. He watched you place the cherry into your mouth, moonlight lighting your face and making your eyes and lips shine. You sighed in delight, leaning slightly into Arthur, momentarily forgetting the fight.

Arthur placed his own cherry on his tongue and watched you pull out the pit by the stem and toss it away. A bright snile painted your lips when you turned and saw Arthur looking down at you, dark eyes watching your every movement.

“Good, right?” You urged, nodding to the stem between Arthur’s lips.

Arthur nodded. “Real good,” he answered. He reached behind you and picked another cherry. “Open.”

You opened your mouth and watched, dazed, as Arthur took great care in tucking the red flesh between your teeth.

You took a bite, feeling juice run down your chin. The red liquid gleamed under the light of the moon, taunting Arthur to remove it.

So he did.

Arthur reached out slowly, giving you the chance to step back. He swiped his thumb under your bottom lip, collecting the cherry juice and then bringing it up to his own lips and sucking it off his thumb.

“Well,” you breathed, eyes darting between Arthur’s lips and his mouth. “Can’t do that to a woman and not…” you started, trailing off.

“And not what?” Arthur prompted, stepping closer. He tilted his head, hand hovering over your cheek.

“Kiss me,” you finished breathlessly, leaning further into Arthur’s touch.

Arthur leaned down and captured your lips in his. He tasted the whiskey and cheery on your lips- a taste he could get addicted to. He groaned into your lips, opening his mouth and inviting you in.

Arthur didn’t know how long he stood there, tasting you, but he assumed he had been there for a while when he saw a light flicker on in the distance.

You pulled away, a smile om your flushed lips. “We should probably go,” you murmured, picking a few more cherries and storing them in your pocket.

Arthur mounted your horse. “I think I do like cherries,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and letting your presence soothe his aches.

[third-generation-female-warrior]

As we get closer to the finale of the Bad Batch, I'd like to post something that's been in my head for a while.

I want to take an in-dept look at the theme of the show and how I think that shapes the ending.

Firstly, we'll need to look at the theme of the show.

The Bad Batch is a story about a group of rogue clones who must survive the rise of the Empire. Okay, that's what happens, but that's not the theme.

The theme is what the story is about. The lesson you want your audience to walk away with. It is the singular thing that shapes the character arcs and choices, from the protagonists to the antagonists.

I would argue that the theme of the Bad Batch is, "Our strength comes from our individuality and differences" and "We need to make our own choices and let people make their own choices; blind allegiance is the downfall of us all." There's also an ongoing argument about loyalty, but that's a different rant.

From the beginning, it's all been about individuality, and how stripping that away is wrong. The inhibitor chips was the first overarching plot device to further this argument.

The chips take away the individuality of the clones by making them a part of a monolithic hivemind. Gone are the individuals who fought with the Jedi, and in came the Empire. The sterile, uniform Empire where individuality and free thought is treated as dangerous and treacherous.

Our heroes, the titular Bad Batch, retain their individuality and differences and disobedient streak and are celebrated as a virtue, and, for the most part, do not fall into the trappings of becoming the monolith.

Now let's talk about Crosshair, specifically.

Crosshair, however different, fell into the Empire, thinking he was going to be heralded as better and superior than the other clones. His choice to stay with the Empire was a choice at first, but even when it was, this was treated as bad in the narration. Even if it was his choice, he came to ultimate realization that... no, he's not different than the other clones in the eyes of the Empire. He's not treated different or better. He's a number. He's cannon fodder. His blind allegiance almost led to his death (not for the first time (Bracca, anyone?)). It led to Mayday's death as they both realized too late: "We were good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?"

So the first choice Crosshair makes for himself? The first free choice that he makes that contradicts the blind allegiance?

He shoots the Lieutenant.

And it was great! Narratively, it was treated as the right move because it was!

Okay, it lands him in Tantiss, but through that series of events, it eventually brought him back to his family. He was redeemed.

Moving on, let's look at another interesting character.

Emerie (beloved)

Dr. Emerie Karr, I would argue, is a woman who never had a choice.

I mean, how could she? Shipped off of Kamino, into the clutches of Hemlock?

Look me in the eyes and tell me that you think Hemlock (derogatory) was an affectionate father-figure to Emerie. Yeah, that's what I thought.

Emerie never had a choice. She was not in the battlefield or even with other clones to learn what her free thoughts were. I would argue she was raised to be afraid of the consequences of what Hemlock would do to her if she stepped "out of line" wherever that was when growing up.

She's constantly warning other clones what happens if they don't cooperate with Hemlock. She's constantly held back by her inability to think for herself.

Until Omega.

Time and time again, Emerie regards Omega as her sister in what way she can, in what little vocabulary she has for such a meaning.

Because Omega, Emerie breaks protocol, just in the little way she can, and returns the straw Lula to her. We see the beginnings of the Imperial bonds start to loosen. It's the first crack in the mirror, so to say, when Omega shows her what it could really be like, to have siblings to love, instead of whatever validation she fights to earn from Hemlock. (There's more on that, but again, another rant, another time.)

It keeps going for Emerie, when she's let into the Vault, all coming to a head when she meets Echo.

"I didn't have a choice," she says. "I've heard that before," he retorts, disbelieving.

She has a choice now, is what's not being said. Do the right thing, make a choice, for once in your life. Don't go along with what the doctor wants.

.

So, what's all this to say?

The ending of the Bad Batch will be dictated by the themes of individuality and free will.

It will all come down to a choice.

Omega, the protagonist, will have to make a choice.

Over this season, in Point of No Return especially, Omega sees how relentlessly the Empire hunts for her. Willing to do anything to get there hands on her.

It's this injustice that makes her angry. She can not let people suffer for her sake.

She won't let her brothers get hurt for her sake.

This drives home the foreshadowing of The Harbinger.

How Ventress warns Crosshair and Hunter, that if Omega was Force-Sensitive, she'd need to leave them to be properly trained.

When Ventress tamed a giant beast with the Force.

I know I'm not alone when I say that I think this will work with Omega's recent discovery of the Zillo Beast, in foreshadowing her and the other kids in the Vault using the Force to "reach out" (which Omega couldn't do with the distraction of her brothers) and tame the beast into wrecking the base and eating Hemlock.

With this discovery of abilities, and newfound charge over these young kids, Omega will be faced with a choice.

Stay with the Batch, or leave for them?

[nunalastor]

Dark Forced Family/Overlord Found Family

Having Vox on the team might seem like an odd choice given his bad relationship with Alastor, but what sold it for the overlords that the risk was worth it was the power Vox shares with Alastor over radio waves. Vox has a way of communicating with Alastor that none of the others have, because Lucifer may have suppressed Alastor's magic into nonexistence, but he can't outright destroy it, that would cause unimaginable damage, and Lucifer may be crazy but even he knows taking that step is too far. But that means Alastor's power still exists, just suppressed, so if Vox can get close to him, he might be able to get a sense of what they're dealing with.

This wasn't relevant until the final fight with Lucifer. Zestial and Carmilla as the oldest overlord and the one with a shit ton of angel-killing weapons are at the front, with Rosie and Vox taking care of Alastor's body. Vox can feel how weak Alastor has become, he won't last the night if this continues, but that power is still there under the surface, he can feel it and if he really looked, he could see all of Alastor's pain.

He can't speak for Alastor, he can't wake Alastor on his own even if he tried. All he can do is use that to switch off safe mode and beat it into the king's head just how much pain Alastor is in. He is the overlord of technology, and one of his skills is communication, he can rub that in Lucifer's face as much as he has to if it means Alastor survives.

The fight isn't easy, between coming up with songs on the dime, Carmilla and Zestial dancing around, Charlie trying to defuse, and Rosie taking care of Alastor (she would fight but Alastor needs some blood to drink and to be as far from this fight as possible), but they see Vox's methods slowly making Lucifer break down. Vox doesn't need to say anything, just the aggression he is fighting with and a power Lucifer would know he shares with Alastor is enough to get the point across.

Until eventually, Lucifer stops fighting, and he seems to be on the brink of crying, though none of them can tell because his hat is shadowing most of his face. Before any of them can decide what to do, Lucifer quietly asks, "You'll take care of him?" None of them know how to answer to that, but figured the worst that would happen being honest was a continuation of the fight, so they confirm.

Lucifer snaps his fingers, and a gold chain around Alastor's neck appears, only to shatter in Lucifer's grip. Alastor's soul was free, and that included his magic that without warning caused the entire tower and hotel to be caught in a violent explosion.

The overlords get their bearings only a few moments later, looking around the hotel in ruin, all of its residents and the royal family whisked away to safety, and Alastor protected by a shield but left behind. Nobody knows what to think of what just happened. Was that it? Lucifer wised up and after everything... just stopped? What was going on?

Zestial convinces them the logistics don't matter right now. Alastor has his soul and his magic back, but he has yet to awaken. It would be best to provide him with emergency treatment either in the safety of Vee Tower or Cannibal Town.

The other overlords agree and Carmilla carries Alastor to get him to a hospital, but Zestial lingers behind for a moment, looking behind him and seeing Roo standing there. He thanks her for her assistance, and that is when Roo holds up a contract in her hand. "I was just fulfilling my end of the deal."

What Zestial hadn't told the others was that he had made a deal with Roo, selling his soul so she would say and do anything to convince Lucifer to let Alastor go, all he would need was a final push. He had a good run, and even if the deal was going to damn him in secret, at least his friends and his grandson had been able to survive.

👀

[gaybananabread]

♪*✧⁠Ramshackle Day Off✧⁠*♪

~It’s official: I’ve gained yet another hyperfixation. I absolutely LOVED the pilot for Ramshackle; the trash goblins grabbed my focus. So, as with all my faves, they’re getting the special treatment. If this is your flavor of interest, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Stone

Lers: Skipp, Vinnie

Summary: Stone’s having one of his emo moments, feeling down and not even cracking his usual half-smile. Skipp and Vinnie decide to help, using the one method they know will always cheer up their grungy friend. 

Warnings: alcohol/cigarettes mentioned! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

In their slum alley, the three lovable scraps lounged about, enjoying one of the very few days where they didn't have to fight to survive.

Vinnie had hit the motherload that morning in a dumpster: an entire case of Hickory Smoked Beans, just past their expiration date. It was a Ramshackle miracle.

Since they didn't have to forage for money or food, the trio could take a sort of off-day. While Vinnie and Skipp were lounging and making the most of it, Stone couldn't help but feel morose.

Sure, they had enough food for a few days. But what happens after that? What would they do when they ran out and had to go back to their normal pattern? What if they couldn't get enough, and not even shoes could sustain them?

He'd usually just chug a bit of liquor to calm those thoughts, but it didn't seem to be doing much. Life felt…impossibly meaningless. Like no matter how hard they tried, the universe would continue to put them in their place at the very bottom.

Stone had a particular look when he got into those moods. His eyes seemed distant, he sighed more, and a bottle of some cheap, scavenged liquor was always nearby. 

While looking for some fabric to patch his newest jacket hole, Skipp noticed his friend's sullen attitude. It wasn't a rare sight, by any means, but it still worried him to see Stone so upset. 

“Hey…you alright, Stone? You seem kinda out of it.” Skipp kept a respectful distance, not knowing if his friend was in a touch-positive mood or not. He extended a hand to silently ask if touch was okay. Stone shrugged, taking a swig from his mystery bottle. 

“Aren’t we all? ‘re we ever really in it, or are we jus’ waitin’ for death to find us and put us in our final place?”

“Uh…okay?” Skipp patted the emotional man’s head before scooting away, going to find Vinnie. She would know what to do…probably.

Vinnie was lounging on one of their make-shift nests when Skipp found her. She groaned, stretching as she sat up from the pile of ratty blankets and coats.

“What is it now? Today’s supposed to be relaxing,” she whined, running a hand through her unruly hair. Skipp pointed to their drunken, miserable-looking friend. “Stone’s in a sad mood again.”

“Fuckin’...course he is. The one damn day we get off…” Vinnie grumbled, dramatically hauling herself completely out of her semi-comfortable nest. “He okay with touch?”

After the blonde nodded, she marched over to Stone, waving for him to do the same. Instead of greeting him, she straddled the dejected man, squeezing his hips.

“GRK- Vihihinnie! W-whahat the hehell?!” Stone dropped his bottle, hands flying to grab Vinnie’s wrists. He was drunk, though, so his fight wasn’t a very effective one.

Skipp blushed, his eyes widening. Vinnie’s fix was…tickling him? The optimistic guy never could handle watching tickle fights without getting flustered, but now…

It looked fun from both perspectives, and Stone was quite upset. He was pretty sure his mind would behave and let him wreck his friend for one.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re cheering you up!” Even though his cheeks were still rosy, Skipp joined in, spidering his short nails on Stone’s kneecaps. It would almost certainly come back to haunt him later, but he didn’t really mind; that was a sort of bonus.

“Yep. It’s too good of a day for that depressing bullshit. You need to learn how to smile, ya mopey shit.” Vinnie was a bit less sweet, but there was a kindness in her salty words. She really cared for Stone, even if he was a depressing asshole sometimes.

“Guhuhuys! Fuhuck ohohohoff!” Stone squirmed and twisted under Vinnie, feeling the four evil hands on him. He squeezed Vinnie’s wrists, though he wasn’t exactly trying to shove her off. This wasn't lost on his friends.

“Aww, you like this, don’t you?” Surprisingly, Skipp was the one to tease him. It wasn’t exactly meant to be one, but that’s what it felt like to the giggling man. He groaned through the happy sound, covering his face with one hand. 

“Holy shit, Skipp. I think you’re right!” Vinnie chuckled, though she already knew that was the case. It was hardly the first time she’d used the method to get Stone to quit moping, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. He needed to smile more.

“Wonder what happens if I go here…” Vinnie clawed at the back of Stone’s ribs, making him snort and start cackling. It was his worst spot, and she knew it. “Oh. That. How cute!”

Was that a bit mean? Maybe, yeah, but Stone seemed like he was writing gothic poetry that morning. The shithead needed to laugh that Ramshackle sadness off.

“’M NOHOHOT CUHUTE!” Stone was practically losing it at that point. Skipp had decided to move to the undersides of his knees. That combined with the backs of his ribs was almost more than he could handle. Almost.

“VIHIHINNY! GEHE’ OHOHOHOFF’A THEHEHERE!” Stone writhed, arching his back to try and avoid her fingers. He kicked his legs, but that was pretty much useless when she was on his thighs. Skipp had free reign of his lower body, and Vinnie was practically unstoppable up top.

“But I like it here! You look like Maggot with all that squirming, dude.” She mentioned their angelic friend, trying to get him blushing more. His cheeks were pink, but Vinnie wanted more. She knew how red he could get.

“Oh yeah, he does!” Out of Stone’s view, Skipp giggled, making Stone groan. That little ball of sunshine just had to comment on everything, didn’t he? Stone cared for him, of course; he just wanted to lovingly strangle him sometimes.

“You know what eats maggots, Stone?” He flipped the blonde off, but Skipp didn’t mind. The next few seconds would make up for that. “Jumping spiders!”

Skipp clawed his hands, switching spots every few seconds to spider each area on his legs. It was kinda dumb, but scientifically accurate. That, and it tickled like crazy.

“SKIHIHIHPP! IHIHI- PFFAHAHAHA!” All protests died, swallowed up in loud, throaty cackles. His nerves were practically on fire, his thoughts drowned out by his own laughter. It was finally too much.

“EHEHENOHOUGH!” Stone yelled through his mirth, patting Vinnie’s shoulder. She immediately pulled away, Skipp following suit. Vinnie climbed off, giving him a second. 

Stone immediately curled in on himself, turning into a giggly pill bug as he recovered. “F-fuhuhuck youhu guhuhuhuys…” 

Vinnie chuckled, used to his profanities. She knows they usually mean he had fun, but was still a bit salty. Skipp, however, was concerned they’d crossed a line. “Stone? Did we go too far?”

The man huffed, swallowing another bout of giggles. His composure was mostly back, the thin line of his lips showing a ghost of a smile. “Nah, yohou’re fine. Youhu suck, thohough.”

Rolling her eyes, Vinnie nudged the giggly man’s shoulder. “Ah, whatever. You were being a downer, and you know it.” 

Stone lovingly flipped her off and grumbled something under his breath. Skipp pulled both of them into a hug, and for once, Stone didn’t pull away. He’d never admit it, but the embrace felt nice at that moment.

“C’mon, guys. Let’s enjoy our day off!” Skipp’s attitude remained bright as ever. Stone opened his mouth to argue, but huffed and shook his head. 

“Fine. I’m taking Vinnie’s nest.” Stone sauntered over to the pile of cloth, smirking at Vinnie’s near-instant outrage.

“Hey! Get your own rags, Nevermore!” The two started playfully wrestling, fighting over the nest Skipp knew they’d end up sharing. He leaned against the wall of the slum alley, watching his friends and taking in the happiness they both now felt.

Yep. Perfect Ramshackle day off.

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 11

“I am not one for politics. They make my scales itch.” Bemoaned Zeet as he walked ahead of Qik and Casper. His mobile platform moved and wandered without input from him as he stood upon it, grimacing at the two larger creatures. They had just left the boardroom where Casper had potentially just signed his body away if this went wrong. 

“I would have thought we would have got more usable data from you by informing you and letting you just *work* with us.” The blue geckin continued, musing out aloud. Casper couldn’t help but grin widely, pleased by the geckin’s seemingly honest distaste for the situation. 

Zeet was an engineer. A nerd. A geek, through and through. He cared about the machines he designed and made. The plots and schemes of others mattered little to him as long as they didn’t cross his wants and desires to improve on his designs. The geckin made an odd croaking throat noise. Casper spoke up.

“Let them work themselves into an early shed then, me and you are going to make a mech that’ll go down in history.” The young man offered, hoping to caress the geckin’s ego.

Qik grinned as well as he did when he blatantly hit his mark perfectly. 

“You think?! Oh! Oh ho ho ho! Just think! First ‘no drift’ pilot in one of *my* machines making headlines. But we need you to succeed. Fame goes both ways, ah?” Zeet pointed out, before adopting a focused look, crossing his arms and touching a finger to his mouth. The two far larger creatures shared a glance as both of them felt themselves disappear to the geckin’s perspective. 

“You’ll need survivability…” Zeet mumbled to him. “Heavy is always best for survivability, but it means taking the hits. Your agility shouldn’t be slept on. Light is just as good, if you don’t get hit.” The geckin snapped his head around to Casper.

“You stopped getting hit all the time?” The tiny creature demanded.

“What do you mean ‘all the time’? She got me *once*!” Casper shot back, thrusting a thumb sideways at Qik who remained silent, although her strut became more pronounced as they discussed her ‘perfect’ kill shot.

Zeet merely grinned at Casper and he was reminded that a grin from a geckin was *not* the same as a human grinning. Zeet was admonishing the human, not sharing in a joke.

“Once was enough. If we capitalise on your speed, you will be light, but weak; you will not survive errant hits! Anything above superficial damage could disable your points or even your whole rig if it’s a bad hit!” The geckin hissed. 

“I was showboating.” Admitted Casper. “I let my guard down. My fault. I won’t jeopardise your work again.” The human spoke seriously and with respect at the older engineer who squinted at him as the walking platform approached a door that slid aside without hesitation. The geckin waved a hand, dismissing the thought, seemingly satisfied with Casper’s devoted tone.

The group entered a room that was quite obviously Zeet’s workshop. Ignoring that it looked down on a hanger bay with a skeleton of a rig hanging in the centre, as Casper looked around the room, he learnt of Zeet’s personality. Messy, but devoted.

Mech and rig designs covered an entire wall which was dominated as a workboard. Pens, stylises and measuring tools were scattered everywhere. A large 3D printer squatted in one corner and was covered in tiny, intricate models of various shapes and sizes. Some were of arms and legs of disembodied mechs, and others were tiny replicas of the whole thing.

“Huh… I think you’d get along with some of us humans.” Casper mentioned, crouching to observe the intricate details of one particular model. It was beautifully designed all the way down to sleek lines showing where the various bolts would connect armour plates together.

“After yourself, I would very much like to meet more humans. I suspect if I could get my claws into one that had a history in mech design, fictional or not, we might share ideas…” Zeet offered before clapping his hands and holding them out in front of him, pointing his claws at Casper, drawing attention to himself.

“*But!* We need to design you a machine that will put us both in the history books and… *Not* leave you at the hands of the XixTech corpo-nation.” Declared Zeet, Casper nodding along until his brain caught up to the sentence.

“Wait… ‘Corpo-Nation’?” He asked, standing up again.

“Mm, they represent the eastern continental landmass on Bok. Our homeworld. They are their government representatives.” Explained Zeet matter-of-factly. Casper merely blinked, once again reminded this was not kansas. 

“Jesus… Yeah, let's not get dropped into that mess.” The young man agreed, already feeling his head spin. Qik settled herself, leaning against a wall, arms crossed as was her usual stance. Casper sat against the window frame with his back to the hanger below.

“So!” Zeet began. “Torso, Head, Arms, Legs and a Spinal mount. These are your rig’s modifiable options.” Zeet explained, turning to open a large cabinet where he produced three glasses. One tiny, the other two perfectly sized for Casper and Qik. The human glanced at the bottle of dark liquid, then to Qik who touched a long finger against her lips. She didn’t want him to ruin this. 

Zeet poured three healthy portions before taking a sip and giving a satisfied sigh, then continuing. 

“I already know what I’m doing for your chest, you don’t get a vote there.” He explained, swiping his hand through the air. Qik cleared her throat as she leaned in to pick up a spare glass.

“What’s your idea?” She asked calmly, seemingly trusting his good sense. 

“Maximum output. Heavier as an option, more so than an ultralight, but I think the way he modifies his output, it’ll be worth it.” Zeet explained, swirling the glass.

“I modify my output? What do you mean?” Casper asked, frowning somewhat. This apparently was an odd question. 

“Wha- My boy… You… It’s not a conscious decision? To pulse your power generation?” Zeet asked, seemingly very confused. Casper pulled a face and shrugged before reaching over and picking up the third and final glass. Taking a sip, it was like paint stripper with a smokey burn afterwards.

“Your power generation is not efficient, or it shouldn’t be! Your reactors ‘pulse’ instead of giving out a steady or constant amount. We thought it was a fault at first until the second and third time it happened. Every rig you hop in, it pulses.” Zeet explained shrugging his arms in defeated confusion, nearly, but not quite spilling his drink.

“Is it dangerous?” Qik asked, narrowing her eyes, but sipping at her own glass, it looked comically small in her hands. Zeet shook his head, sipping at his drink, a tiny red tongue dabbing at the murky liquid. 

“I don’t think so, although it was far, far faster when you took that hit.” The geckin conceded, pointing a finger over the rim of his glass. 

“Was it like a heartbeat?” Asked Casper, following a hunch. Zeet shook his head again, the corners of his mouth pulling up as if Casper had asked the same question as him.

“No. We thought so too, but it was too slow.” The geckin dismissed, looking into his glass with a contemplative frown. Unconvinced, Casper waited a second, considering what it could have been before getting an idea. Without speaking, Casper knocked his knuckles against the wall he was leaning on. Thump thump. Pause. Thump thump. Pause. The reaction was immediate, the engineer's feet jumping up in unison and briefly leaving the walking platform he stood upon as he pointed and did briefly spill his drink this time. . 

“Yes! That! That’s it! Two pulses and a pause. We racked our brains trying to figure that out!”

Casper merely smiled knowingly, closing his eyes and opening them again before speaking, pleased to have an answer for the older geckin.

“That’s *my* heartbeat Zeet.” Tapping his chest with his glass. ”Bigger heart, slower rhythm.” The young man explained. The tiny geckin stood there, motionless for a time. Before closing his eyes and placing his own drink down on the table.

“Your heartbeat. *Your*! Heartbeat. Argh! Rocks in my brain! Terminal rocks!” Zeet exclaimed, causing both Casper and Qik to grin as an apparent mystery was solved for him. The poor geek looked genuinely annoyed as he glared at the ceiling.

“So it’s not an issue?” Asked Qik.

“Huh! Hardly. It means he doesn’t run hot, but has access to power when he needs it. Works well with the rest of my plans.”

“Go on, you’ve ideas, I’m listening.” Casper said, grimacing as he slugged another mouthful of the drink down. It seemed to burn less with the third gulp. 

“Chest we go for power. Your spine mount, I suggest an advanced booster. It does mean you’re more vulnerable. One hit to your back and you’ve lost your main defence; not being where they fired at.” The geckin suggested, shrugging with the admission. 

“I mean if we’re engaging at range, I can move out of the way of the rounds, right?” Casper offered, looking to Qik for confirmation. She pulled a face and shook her head, her ears flopping with the movement. 

“Two problems with that; unreliable reactions and no one uses slug rounds anymore.” She explained. Casper frowned, specifically remembering a fairly solid round tearing through his chest not less than 24 hours ago. 

“What do you mean? The geckins do?” He pointed out, rudely pointing at Zeet who could care less as he tilted his head back, finishing off his own glass. He spoke next, pulling Casper’s attention. 

“We’re an exception, not a rule. The ursidains also use solid projectiles, but only when they’re firing a heavy hitter. Energy weapons are the name of the game these days. Most see solid projectiles as ‘old’, in the sense of ‘museum piece’ old.” Zeet offered honestly. 

Casper thought that was strange, solid projectiles were reliable, but this wasn’t his world. This was a galaxy in a vastly different period of their history than Earth was. He shook his head to clear his mind. 

“Okay fine, keep mobile. What about arms and legs? What about weapons?” He pressed, almost looking forward to hearing what toys Zeet was offering. 

“Legs wise, again, I’d go for speed. Extra vents for additional jet exhausts. Rather than running, you’ll end up ‘skating’ around the enemy. Good luck keeping up with you. You’ll need it too.” Zeet offered.

“Are the enemies quick?” Casper asked. 

“Fairly. Spider-Technicals.” Qik responded. 

“What are they?”

“Heavy armour, focused laser beam for their main cannon. Prolonged targeting will thermal shock the armour that gets hit, burrowing through whatever it's shooting at. The tanks are mobile, capable of keeping line of sight on their target and climbing up and around buildings to do so. The intention is to have a small army of them and they just overwhelm any target that approaches.” The lopel explained, polishing off her own glass and gesturing with her hands, as if she were spreading a model army out in front of her.

“So keep circling them?” Casper suggested.

“And they’ll have to track you. We keep you light and mobile, they focus on you…” Qik went on, trailing off to allow Casper to finish the thought. 

“...And you take them out while their back is turned.” The young man concluded, nodding at the idea. He could be bait, he didn’t even have to fight. Just wave his arms in the air and keep their attention. 

“He’s a fast learner.” Zeet pointed out, nodding to Casper but looking to Qik. She merely grinned and returned to her ‘arms crossed’ posture, smugness radiating off her.

“Thanks to his teacher.” 

Zeet was less than sure. 

“Mm. Sure.” He blinked slowly and turned his head back to the huma before opening them again. “Arms wise, we have options.“

“I did consider a plasma thrower, but it's heavy and drains a lot of power during charge up. Good against another mech, less so for tanks. We have similar options like sniper beams, but same thing. Line of sight and you’d need to be still.”

“So what would you suggest?”

“If we are going with this plan, we should actually keep you lightly armed. How do you feel about a solid sword?”

“Solid? But what about my lightsaber!”

“No, too draining. If we’re keeping you as fast as we intend, we need you using 100% of your reactor’s output. A solid sword, atomised edge, you’ll still be dangerous. Lightweight metal, no drain on your resources, there's no downsides besides no range. But that's not an issue this time.”

“Atomised edge?” Casper asked, just checking for clarification. Zeet nodded and hastened to explain before moving on. 

“An edge a few atoms thick. Blunts faster, but realistically, this is a blitz, you’re not going to be out there long enough to need to worry about that.”

“What could I cut through?”

“Anything with enough force behind your swing. Do *not* touch the edge with any part of yourself.” The geckin demanded with a serious tone and an accusing finger. Casper held his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Yes sir.”

Zeet merely nodded. Qik remained quietly thinking as she scratched her own chin.

“So, speed, speed, speed?” Casper summarised.

“Quite so. Qik, I trust you will just select your weapons as normal?” Zeet asked, turning to the lopel as he sat himself in a chair. The merc merely nodded and lay her palm up as if presenting her idea.

“I’m going for a swarm missile rig. If it’s just technicals, I don’t need anything else.” She explained with a carless shrug. 

“Swarm missile?” Casper prodded. 

“Line of sight lock on, you fire the swarm and they fire up into the air before raining down on the tanks. Doesn’t matter if they’re crawling on or around buildings. They’ll punch through their armour. The downside is I need to see them to lock on, which sucks when LOS works both ways.” Qik went on, but then leaned forward to emphasize her words. . 

“Buuut…” She drawled. 

“But if they’re looking at me, that doesn’t matter.” Casper replied, grinning back at the lopel. She held his gaze a moment longer than needed before straightening and giving him her approval. 

“Attaboy.”

Casper considered his options, and turned back to Zeet. 

“So a sword? Nothing else?” He asked. 

Zeet, his hands on his head, turned the chair to face the larger human. 

“Did you have something else in mind?”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[sillygoose067]

Over the 7 Seas

Ch. 32

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Charles blearily blinks his eyes open, meaning to stretch his limbs when he feels a weight on his left side. He turns to relieve the weight there, finding you curled up under his arm, burrowed into his covers. Smiling, he spoons around you, breathing in your scent, now mixed with his, after using his body wash. He runs his fingers over your features, wondering how he got lucky enough to have you.

Feeling a ticklish sensation on your face, you flinch away, trying to escape with a whine when you hear a raspy chuckle near your ear, then a kiss on your forehead. 

“Morning, baby."

“Nooooooo. S’too early to wake up”, you moan. 

Your surroundings shake and you sit up in alarm thinking there was an earthquake, but look over your shoulder to see Charles’ body shaking in mirthless laughter. You harumph, crossing your arms, and turn around. 

“C’mon baby, Cheri, I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re so cute when you wake up”. 

This makes you turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Are you saying that I’m not cute any other time?”

He pulls you so that you’re lying on top of him now. You place your cheek on his bare chest. “Angel, you’re always cute to me”, and his fingers began to massage your scalp again. You start to drift off and he stops. 

“Nooooo, don’t stop. Feels good…”

He chuckles again and resumes. “Babe, you know I love you, and that there’s nothing I’d rather do than spend my morning with you like this. But I need to go to HQ to do some sims. The earlier I go, the earlier I can come home”. 

“Mmmmhhm”

“Please Cheri? You can stay here until I come back, and I can drop you back home tonight”.

“...Fine”, you give in reluctantly, the thought of leaving tonight sobering you up. You didn’t want to go back yet, but you had responsibilities, as did Charles.

…

You rummage through his cupboards and cabinets, looking for something to get into your boyfriend’s stomach before he leaves while said man is in the shower. What’s the purpose of having all this money if you can’t even stock up your kitchen, man, you mumble to yourself. I bet this dude doesn’t even eat breakfast, you tsk. I need to fill up these cupboards and make sure he eats all his meals properly. 

You manage to get some toast, eggs, and coffee going. At least he has an espresso machine.

You’re smothering your piece of toast with butter when Charles reappears, freshly showered, dressed in a dark blue crewneck and a pair of baggy jeans, taking a seat on the stool in front of you. “Wow, did you make us breakfast? Thanks love.”

You scoff. “If this is what you call breakfast, you’ve got problems. We need to fill up these cabinets of yours, make them useful.”

He hums as he scarfed down the toast and eggs, pressing a kiss to your temple as he gets up to leave. “Feel free to look around while I’m gone. If you need anything, just give me a call. I should be home after lunch.”

“Bye, love you.”

“Love you, babe.” You watch as he steps out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. 

…

You get dressed (in last night’s clothes, because of course, you didn’t plan far ahead enough, and the need to fill your boyfriend’s kitchen won over your mortification) and make your way downtown to the local grocery store. As you roamed through the aisles, you picked up a couple of fruits to leave on his island counter, some vegetables, eggs, milk, bread, and other necessities to keep him stocked up and healthy. Lord knows how he survived so far with barely any sustenance and his strict dietary protocols. 

By the time you return to the apartment, it’s nearly lunchtime, so you cook something up, making it in extras just in case Charles shows up. Lo and behold, you hear the doorknob jiggle while you’re steaming some rice. 

“Hi!”, you chirp.

He kicks his shoes off, and approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Hello love, you certainly seem more chipper than this morning. What’s up?”

“Nothing”, you grin up at him, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “I hope I didn’t overstep, but I took the liberty of filling your pantry and fridge”. You shrug, feigning indifference. 

He parts from you and rummages around his kitchen, peeking his head into every one of the cabinets and the fridge. The silence is nearly overwhelming, and you let go of the breath you were holding, twisting your fingers and beginning an apology. “I’m sorry Char–” And then suddenly, you’re being crushed to a firm chest. 

“I love you so much it hurts. You need to stop being so sweet to me, Y/n, or I might die of it”, he whispers into your hair. You smile, relieved, and grip his arms, pulling away to look him in the eye. 

“You don’t mind?”

“Sweetheart, if I recall correctly, I told you to make yourself at home last night. That’s all you’ve done here. How could I ever mind?”

“I mean, I wasn’t sure if you’d like me to go snooping around your kitchen– And what if you were leaving everything empty on purpose?”

He snorts. “For what? My trophies? Baby, you don’t need to overthink everything you do so much. Not anymore, a least not around me, alright?”

“M’kay”, you sigh in resigned relief. 

“Now, what’s for lunch? I haven’t had a homecooked meal in ages.”

You smack his chest. “You literally had dinner made by Pascale last night.”

“Ow! I meant other than that.”

You enjoy a hearty meal together on Charles’ sofa, laughing and discussing each other’s day and plans for the evening. 

If this is what love feels like, I want this forever.

[haven-of-dusk]

Semi-random scene analysis time. I honestly always liked this scene, and it took me a bit to figure out why, but I think I got it.

First off, just aesthetically, *chef's kiss*. The mussed up helmet hair looks adorable on all three of them, the outfits are on point, I'm literally just now noticing that I think the Steiners have matching backpacks (their commitment to the bit is insane and wonderful), it's all great.

Second...it's just funny. And charming. Ethan and Aiden ping-ponging the conversation between each other for a second without even letting Scott get a word in is fun, and the delivery of "This is about you being the target of demonic ninjas." "You mean the demonic ninjas who pulled swords out of their chests and kicked our asses?" "Yeah! Those demonic ninjas!" was pitch perfect. I feel like Charlie and Max don't get enough credit for how well they bounce off each other because it's assumed they would be good at it, when in actuallity I've met more than one set of identical twins who SUCK at that.

Lastly, it might be me reading too much into things, but I do think this scene is a great example of characterization through limited dialgoue and action. A line that stands out to me is "Since this is our first experience with demonic ninjas, we're thinking we should play it safe." The use of the plural pronoun is very telling to me, because I'd be willing to bet even thinking of protecting Scott was Ethan's idea, and yet he always uses the 'we' pronoun because he and Aiden are an inseperable team.

It's something I feel S3 really did right: distinctifying Ethan and Aiden into their own people without sacrificing their bond to each other. I feel like a lot of fiction that introduces twins as minor characters just makes them a unit without much distinction between them (hell, Harry Potter did it twice, for instance), but despite the Steiners literally having a merged form, the show made an effort to show how they're very different, yet still complementary people. They could be simplified to the brains and the brawn, but even that straightforward premise tells us a lot about how they've survived as long as they have and presumably a contributor to Deucalion recruiting them. It also makes Aiden's death all the more heartbreaking the more you realize how important they were to each other.

I'm getting a little off-topic here, but the point is that simple interactions like this can darastically shape a character and I feel as though that's underappreciated. Especially when it comes to already underrated characters like the Steiners.

On a last, less serious note, I appreciate that the three werewolves with miraculous healing abilities all still practice proper motorcycle safety and wear helmets, gloves, and long sleeves. Unironically love that for them.

[turkey-sandwich]

I cooked some shuffle units

Murder mystery

Okay, this one is the one that prompted all this. Please this would be the fucking funniest thing ever (I think I already did this exact lineup somewhere)

Just. Consider Shu's beef against Eichi, then you got Eichi's beef against tomoya. All the while there's whatever himeru and tattsun got going on. Also meru's detective thingy

Steampunk

I just want mayoi on a big ass ship again serving cunt. Also mayoi and nii-chan interactions. Rei is there because of course he is (we ignore that they were both in la mort). Everybody in this shuffle at some point has to clown on sena because it's morally correct to clown on izumi sena

Fairytale

Very obviously not inspired by dragons flying over a nowhere forest by ao3 user 21397942794 (lie) (you should read it btw it's really good it has a dragon and midoyuzu)

Also naru is a princess and midoyuzu shenanigans. Also yuzuara. And sora going "I know what you are" to Midori. Nagisa is there because I need to further my "Midori having weird but wholesome friendships with everyone in Eden" agenda. But also the bridal march tour gave me brainworms for yuzuru and nagi friendship

Circus themed

It's actually just me making an excuse to put torikasa in a unit. And jun going "haha mini ohii-san" to Tori. Torikasa being insufferable to each other that Kanata looks at them and then plays clown music because they're fucking idiots (affectionate). Mika just vibes. Also momo and sumomo returns

Megane

That's it. That's the whole shuffle unit. Just the guys with glasses. And chiaki. He gets a new glasses card. This fanservice for the megane fans (me, I am the megane fans)

Also one of them loses their glasses at one point and they have to stumble around to look for it like Velma does (it's either keito or mugi)

Futuristic

Madaleo.

They also probably use the VR thing again. And the closest thing we'll ever get to DF comeback. Mao and yuta are there because I think it's funny if they got to witness the insane chaos in the front row while kohaku's like "first time?"

Vibing at the zoo

Peachy and Thunder returns and is featured in a card that's higher than 3✩. Please HappyEle bring back the frogs....

Also wawa's birds are here, and Leon. Subaru would be here, but that would mean 3/4(?) of ANIMALS are in this unit. And I need hiiro vibing with kuro. Maybe a sparring session between them

Beach day

BEACH DAY!! Kaoru teaches mitsuru to surf and Niki grills food on the beach. Everyone is having fun. Subaru and mitsuru race with daikichi on the beach. Life is good

Obligatory someone gets hit by a volleyball in the head (it's kaoru)

Survival-esque horror

Halloween I think? Think zombie apocalypse and these are the main characters tying to survive

And also because literally any interaction with rinne is fucking funny as hell. Also remember in the main story when the bees were causing trouble? Yeah. The whole fiasco with tricking Akatsuki, kicking koga off the stage, the ryuseitai being called fake heroes incident (and rinne and niki running off on a motorcycle only for Kanata and chiaki to catch up with them and tie them up to bring them back to es). Yeah. Rinne gotta deal with that. Interesting things. And rinne gets to make fun of aira about hiiro's marriage proposal in matrix

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

Let's Play Pretend

A/N: Karlach really wanted to make her thoughts known and this was the result. Full length on AO3 and as always happy reading

A/N2: If you ever wanna see specific scenarios feel free to poke my inbox :) im enjoying seeing where this goes

Let's Play Pretend

Gale tugged at the sleeve of his robe once more. He used to enjoy going to parties, granted it was often because he was performing feats of magic most people could only dream of doing. But the conversation was also stimulating. 

He wasn't meant to rub elbows with Lords and Ladies. Or rather, he didn't want to. And he was really only there because-

“Gale!” 

Gale let out a soft oof and chuckled as he was enveloped in Karlach’s arms. He hugged her back. She smelled less of sulfur and the hells this time around. More like oranges and sandalwood. It’s warm, but not a burning type that might sear his skin if he’s not careful. It’s comfortable. 

Familial. 

She was happy as they let go of each other. And he admired her choice of attire. Simple, elegant and entirely her. Her dress, Gale notes, is in the Ravengard house colors. Form fitting, sleeveless but with thin straps over her shoulders and a slit up the left side to show off her toned legs. 

“Do you like it?” She does a small twist this way and that. “It was the least god-awful thing I could get them to make me. No movement in anything else ya know? What happens if we have to go into battle?”

“And what would we be fighting?” Gale asked. 

“These stuffed up tarts,” she answered. “Minus Wyll and his father.” 

“If I’d known we’d be doing that, I would have brought my quarterstaff,” Gale joked. She smiled and leaned against the wall next to him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“How ya been Gale? Feels like ages since we’ve seen each other,” she nudged his shoulder. 

“Just about a year I think,” he nodded and sipped his wine. “How have you been?” 

“Oh you know, fighting imps, killing demons…found a forge master fixed my engine right up,” she grinned and tapped her chest. “Part of the reason we're here. Wyll’s been a real friend, keeping up with me in Avernus and first thing I told him once my engine got fixed and could survive out here, we'll take a break so he can spend time with his dad.”

They both looked over and saw Wyll talking with his father. Both Ravengard’s enjoying each other's company. 

“I ain't complaining about the break either. Even got my own little private villa,” Karlach grinned. “And his dad really knows his cigars.” 

Gale smiled. “I'm glad. You deserve it Karlach. You both do.”

“So where's Fangs?” She asked. “Figured he'd be all up for a chance to rub elbows with all these stiffs.”

“He had some business to take care of. We agreed to meet here,” Gale answered. He drank more wine and scanned the room for one of the servers with another tray of glasses. 

“And things are good with you two?” She asked. 

He doesn’t miss the inquiring tone of her voice, borderline skeptical. 

“Of course, why wouldn't they be?” He asked. 

“Just, two of you, kinda sudden ya know? We all go our separate ways then Withers gets us all together and you and Astarion are living together, engaged. I mean fucking hell, am I gonna come back after another year to find out you two adopted or something?” 

Gale snorts into his wine and coughs. He quickly sets the glass on the table to keep from spilling the remainder all over himself and a few people are looking their way. Karlach usher’s him outside to one of the emptier balconies patting his back. 

She’s joking. He knows she’s joking but god’s does that still make him squirm. Marriage, even one of willing convenience is one thing. But a child? He wouldn’t even subject Tara to this kind of life let alone a child. 

She winced and checked over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being watched by prying eyes. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologized. “Bad joke?” 

He coughed and took the napkin she offered to wipe his mouth, and let out a potentially strangled laugh. “Just a bit Karlach.” He patted her shoulder. “And...it just sort of happened.” He wanted his wine. 

“Alright well, how?” She asked. 

“What do you mean?” He frowned. 

“You say it just sort of happened, but you've never actually answered the question. Even then, ‘oh ya know, just one of those whirlwind things’,” she tried to imitate his voice. “‘You know Astarion, he’s never one to do things half-assed.’ ‘Just swept me off my feet…’”

“My voice is not that high,” he crossed his arms over his chest and caught the engagement ring in question on his finger. 

Gold band with ruby center. Diamond’s set on either side. It’d been enchanted, so the only way it was coming off was if Astarion wanted it off or Gale cut off his own finger. He just didn’t have the nerve. 

“It kinda is,” she replied. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “There isn’t much to tell Karlach. It really sort of just…happened. I was surprised as you were but, when he looked at, when he asked me, when he…when he told me, I suppose I got caught up in it all. Isn’t that what they say love is supposed to feel like? Like your hearts caught in a vice?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Karlach put her hand on his shoulder. 

“There you are!” 

They parted as if burned. Astarion stood in the open doorway with his hands on his hips. Red eyes flitting between Karlach and Gale. Her hand still hovered in the air from where it’d been on Gale’s shoulder.

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