#i think its a worthy enough trade off' :)

[meatriarchived]

y'know in routes of cc / nosy where nancy does accept maria & lee esp but, honestly, nancy's front garden is so nicely set up and maintained that maria would adore it so much?

but also the fact that johnny's also got the skull hanging over his shack like nancy's got over that front archway leading up to the house is also kinda cute tbh c:

and then its just. the contrast between the front of the house - nancys garden - compared to the back of the property. like, nice, look at all of johnny's trash piles back there hidden out of sight- fdsbk

and then we ignore the jock dying for a moment cause YAY APPLIANCES IN SHACK WE CAN COOK but also the radio for broadcasting purposes :))

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: jeonghan x fem!reader

Requested: yes [Can you please write something angsty for prince DK? Or if this is too vague, what do you think about a bet au with Jeonghan?] [By anon]

Genre: angst, coworkers to lovers, fluff, fuckboy au, opposites au, bet au

Warning(s): misogyny, jeonghan is an asshole and so is seungcheol, [if you find more pls inform ]

Summary: Jeonghan had plans on never talking to the quite coworker they hired, but like doesn't always pan out the way we want to. But when you add money to the problem, plus both your feelings, you have the perfect recipe for disaster.

Word count: 5.2k

Other works

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask.

a/n 2: i hope it was what you wanted, thanks for the ask btw!

Everyone at the office knew that Jeonghan was a free spirit, he worked hard and partied even harder. He like living his life in the most happening way possible. Be it weekend trips, bike trips to the mountains or staying in the countryside for a week and working remote while enjoying the serenity that comes with it, he was down for anything.

Funnily enough he was referred to as the least energetic person in his friend group. So, one can imagine overzealous they normally were.

His work more often than not was impeccable, no one could fault him at all. The rising star of the corporate world they called him at the office. In his five years at the job the man had garnered more approval than anyone else.

He liked his life, and he would not trade it for anything else.

Now, unlike Jeonghan you resided on the other side of the spectrum. Your kind of life was pretty monotonous waking up before your alarm, making your bed, skipping meals, and surviving on coffee, reaching, and leaving work on the dot and crying while rewatching your favorite shows, was your kind of life. You like staying in during the weekends and cleaning up the mess you make in your living space during the weekdays and trying everything in your power to not upset your cat while doing so.

Its calm, chill, maybe a bit boring but it worked for you and brought you peace.

You were the newest recruit in your office and from the first day you captured the attention of most of your coworkers for your meticulous and polite words.

More often than not you refuse to talk to your coworkers ensuring that there stays a professional boundary between you all and if they would not catch onto your behavior, you would politely decline them.

Never that interested in networking, you refuse to talk to more people than you need to.

Jeonghan caught onto it pretty early, but why did it matter to him what you did, so like everyone else he went on his own way and simply chose to ignore you.

Ten months into your new job was when you first had a real conversation with the man. It was pretty late at night, both of you had to stay back for overtime. That was when you saw him struggling with his presentation for the next day’s meeting.

That day you broke the ‘no talking to my coworkers rule unless and until it’s very important’ rule.

“what’s the problem?” you politely asked the man.

“Oh, I am having slight problem with the numbers here,” the man replies looking visibly confused and surprised.

“If you want, I can help you out” you kindly stated as Jeonghan casually just turned his laptop towards you.

So, for the next one and half hours you both sat there and diligently worked on the presentation and by the end of it the material looked rather good and presentation worthy.

Looking extremely grateful the pretty man said, “I am so thankful you helped me out today, so why don’t I repay you by dropping you off at your house, it’s pretty late you know.”

Looking at your watch you politely replied, “no worries, plus if I rush a bit, I can catch the last bus home so please don’t bother.”

Jeonghan looked bummed at this, but he was obliged nonetheless as he knew you to be an introverted lady and he did not want to make you uncomfortable.

--

The next time you and Jeonghan had a conversation, was again at a night when you both were staying at the office over time. By this time, you have become pretty comfortable with each other, not enough to hold a conversation but enough to spare a quick nod and a smile while passing by each other’s cubicles.

He was done with the day’s work and was about to leave the office when he noticed you hunched over your laptop looking frustratingly at your screen which showed you an open excel sheet with infinite numbers.

Feeling like he owed you the help, Jeonghan strode towards you and calmly said “let me see.”

Jumping in shock you looked at him and replied, “oh no don’t bother I can figure it out you should go home it’s pretty late you know.”

Tsking at your reply he grabbed a chair to sit beside you while saying “it’s only fair, you helped me out so I should help you now.”

You let him, in actuality you needed that little help from him, the data entries were annoying you and you absolutely did not like it one bit.

Just like that time passed by again resulting in the clock to show that it was quarter past one by the time you both were done.

This time though Jeonghan shut down all your protests to go about his own way and your reluctance to inconvenience him with a simple “it’s pretty late and I won’t let you get followed by some creeps on the road plus the last bus is gone anyways so you are coming with me.”

On the way he stopped at a convenience store to get some dinner for you both and you devoured your ramen while chatting with him.

You both were pretty similar, in some cases for example you both had this extreme love for Legos that existed beyond measurable amounts, both of you loved your pets to death, albeit his was a rock and yours was a cat, but as he said “we don’t discriminate peoples pets here, they can have what they want to but given its legal and safe for the pet.”

On the other hand, Jeonghan liked you too, he was happy he could be the first one to break your shell to meet the real you and he was proud of this. It was close to an achievement for him.

--

“Han like this new chick in his office.”

Joshua loudly announced to the group of boys sprawled in his living room one evening. Jeonghan’s friends had come to his house to hang out and to get drunk out of their wits to forget the stress of the tedious weekend they had. They were all friends from college, now working jobs in the most contrasting industries ever like Seungcheol was the manager for their states football club and Soonyoung was a choreographer working with famous celebrities, Hansol on the other hand was the proud of a pet shelter and the one and only Joshua was an English history professor who most days worked overtime at the university. But at the end of the day, they were all the loud and obnoxious assholes he knew and loved from his younger days, and nothing could compare to that.

“Really you never told us about this one hyung?” Mingyu enquires.

“Nah she is just a new hire at the office, does not like talking to people at all. She is more antisocial than Wonwoo’s ass.”

“Really now, antisocial?” Seungcheol enquires, not missing Jeonghan’s defensive tone.

“Yes, Cheol antisocial, plus I don’t even know her enough,” the male says while rolling his eyes at his friends interest with you.

“Maybe you could talk to her and get her out of her shell, you are a pretty good mediator in our group I think you could do that,” pipes up the ever so benevolent Seokmin.

“Yes, you could,” Seungcheol joins him smirking a bit.

Now thoroughly annoyed Jeonghan exclaims “no I cannot. The only way someone can get that stuck up bitch out of her shell will be fucking her or something and I do not want to do so!”

“What if I pay you, will you do it then,” Seungcheol says still smirking.

“Do what?”

“Fuck her enough to get her out of her shell.”

The whole room goes silent at that statement.

“Hyung, I don’t think it’s right,” the youngest of them, Chan, suddenly speaks.

“Yes, its morally incorrect man,” Jeonghan agrees.

“I will pay you, plus life is pretty boring. This will give us something to talk about for at least the next year,” the oldest explains still smiling a bit.

“I agree with the others, its emotionally taxing and nothing good will come out of doing something like this man, plus what are we teenagers making bets about emotionally harming others?” Joshua says.

“Jeonghan, you do it and I will give you a thousand bucks,” the oldest says calmly. At the same time all the men in the room let out an exasperated sigh, knowing there is no winning with this stubborn man, while hoping silently that Jeonghan does not succumb to the greed.

But alas they were wrong, so wrong. An amount that lucrative will only be passed by a fool and Jeonghan was no such thing. He stood up from his place at the loveseat and confidently strode over to Seungcheol.

“You better keep your fucking word,” he says while shaking the older man’s hand.

While Seungcheol smiles and says, “you know what you complete the bet within the next six month I’ll give you a five thousand and if you don’t end up doing it, you gotta pay me pal.”

--

After that evening with his friends, Jeonghan was pretty stressed, because why should he not be? Making you sleep with him is hard enough, but making a situationship out of it sounds even harder. Now he thoroughly regrets accepting the bet.

You on the other hand are pretty happy and quiet as you often are. Very much unaware of his internal turmoil, as you keep talking excitedly about the new Lego death star you bought.

Yes, you and Jeonghan have bonded quite a bit these past few days, he likes spending time with you too, and so do you. It is a nice and comfortable friendship you both have built, and you like it.

“Why don’t you let me come to your place this weekend, and we can build the set together. We can get takeout later too,” he suddenly speaks up shocking you with such forward proposition.

“Well only if you want to though no pressure, it’s just that I really wanted to build the death star and was planning to buy it but like couldn’t make enough time to do –”

“Sure, you can come,” you speak up stopping his nervous rant.

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks just to make sure he heard it correctly.

“Yes, I am, it will be fun to build the Lego set together,” you say smiling.

“Yes, it would be, but like are you really sure,” he says again to make sure he is really not hard at hearing.

“Jeonghan if you ask me once again, I will take back what I just said.”

This makes him stop talking at all and he proceeds to show you his beautiful smile, making you feel a bit giddy inside.

“So, I will come this Saturday and we shall make the death star cuz we can,” he sings, making you bark out a laugh at him.

Little do you know you just poured a cool bucket of water on the burning flames on anxiety inside Jeonghan’s brain and he is extremely happy about that.

--

The next Saturday comes rolls in slowly, the tedious and boring week is over, and it is time for self-care and a lot of friendship building activities or that’s what you thought.

The man was mad and when you say mad you mean it. The Lego making only lasted for like two hours before he had hidden all the pieces of the part that you were making, resulting you to search for them all over the house. Moreover, after diligently searching and finding nothing, you had given up when he had produced all those pieces from his pockets shocking you to the core.

This little stunt had made you force him to pay for the takeout and when you were both fed and watered, he had proposed a game of chess. Only problem, you never knew one could cheat in this game too. He moved the pieces wrong.

Result. You both had the pettiest fight ever wherein the man with all his might tried to convince you that the rook was indeed supposed to move diagonally.

“You don’t understand, that is how the game is played. Are you sure you ever played this before?” he had asked.

“Hani you are wrong, please the rook never in its whole life moved diagonally, it always moved straight.”

“Maybe that is what your problem is, you are so uptight, you refuse to accept the differences in our opinions!”

“Oh, now I'm uptight, you are only being this difficult cuz you are losing!”

“I wouldn’t if you let me play the rook diagonally.”

“But that is not how it is played! Why don’t you—"

All your rants stop just like that, it took you at least five business days to actually realize that Jeonghan had kissed you. But once you got over that shock, you closed your eyes and moved your lips along with his.

Jeonghan, thoroughly exasperated by your intense argument, impulsively sought to quiet you by placing a soft, lingering kiss on your plump lips. Almost immediately, regret washed over him as he feared he had acted rashly at the worst possible moment. Mentally preparing to distance himself from you for the rest of your time together, he was taken aback when you reciprocated the kiss, instantly dissolving all his worries and leaving him pleasantly surprised.

You broke the kiss to take a breath, both looking visibly flustered.

“Do you want to stay the night, or do you want to go?” you asked him while looking at him with your sparkling eyes, making Jeonghan want to glue his ass to your house, but he being the gentleman he was declined the offer.

“I would really like to take you out on a date. As I really like you, so I won’t spoil my chances with you by staying tonight.”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. You always thought of the man to be a Casanova, so the idea of him taking you on a date while simultaneously insinuating that he won’t take any harsh steps with you was a nice little change and you were all for it.

--

It was all smooth sailing after that.

Jeonghan took you to an amusement park for the date next Sunday and oh boy did you enjoy yourself to the fullest.

Both of you had the time of your lives. Making sure to go on every ride, play every game and eating every junk you found there. By the end of it you were visibly exhausted and elated with how the day went.

The following day you were visibly happier in the office and even had a small conversation with one of your coworkers.

This went on for the following month, with each and every date you opened up to Jeonghan more and more, and so did he.

He loved spending time with you and vice versa. It was during your regular Friday movie nights, a ritual you both had established as you both liked watching movies and bonded while talking about them, when Jeonghan absolutely bored with the movie scooted a bit too close to you in hopes of gaining your attention by annoying you, a typical Jeonghan move. When you both ended up making love on the couch.

This was only the start of a lot of escapades you would have with the man.

After that one night, Jeonghan was all over you at all times. Be it at the office or be it at home he was with you or texting you all the time. Your nights were now filled with heavy make outs and intense love making sessions.

Everybody at the office knew about you both. On top of that you were more extroverted than ever. You even went out with your coworkers for an office dinner. Somehow, Jeonghan was praised for the change he brought in you, and like his ‘kind’ self, he declined all those compliments with a gracious smile.

He didn’t like to say it out loud, but he liked your changed self, more than your reserved one. Plus, he also took credit for the change, but it’s not like he would tell you that anytime soon.

--

 It was almost five months into dating Jeonghan, when he asked you to meet his friends. You knew he had a very loyal group of friends and you had never met them before. On the contrary Jeonghan had met your one and only best friend within only three months of dating. In the most best friend manner, the lady has hated his ass the whole-time side eyeing him constantly and leaving petty remarks here and there. But that night she had called you and told you something she didn’t ever say for any of your boyfriends “I can see he loves you a lot. For the first time you chose the correct guy.”

Getting your strict best friend to like Jeonghan was like clearing the first hurdle of your relation. For the first time, you were proud of your choice in men and especially your boyfriend.

“Oh, I would love to meet them, but would they like me,” you were rightfully concerned about the boys liking you. As much as you were independent, you would like to gain the approval of your boyfriend’s friends like any girlfriend.

“They are dorks through and through, they will love, don’t worry” he had said while kissing your forehead to calm you down.

“Plus, you will fit right in, they are nice people,” he later added.

--

That evening, Jeonghan had taken you to the Korean BBQ place downtown where they all were meeting. The night had started rocky but within an hour you were having fun with Mingyu and Seokmin, all worries forgotten. Jeonghan had looked at you with pride blooming in his chest with how happy you looked with his friends, enjoying yourself.

It seems that all the twelve of them had liked you a lot saying you were the perfect partner for Jeonghan, someone who could ground him at the same time let him be himself.

The BBQ party came to an end, but the boys still had a lot of energy, so they went to the karaoke next taking both you and Jeonghan with them. Although you were thoroughly exhausted, you had complied to go, seeing Jeonghan have so much fun was a sight you didn’t want to miss.

You had gone to the bathroom the first thing right after reaching the karaoke place, to wake you up and also to do your business. Seungkwan had accompanied you claiming, “all that soju and walking has made my bladder shake like never before!” it’s not a lie though, they did drink like it will be the last time they ever get to drink.

As you came out of the restroom, Seungkwan gave you a kind smile and said “I have never seen Jeonghan this happy before, not even with us. I'm sure he likes you a lot.”

Smiling at him you said, “I think I love him; I have not said that to him yet, but I really think I do.”

With a sassy ‘good for you’ from the one and only Boo, you both made your way to the room that your group had booked.

As you reached closer, you could hear all the boys talking to each other.

“I approve, she is an angel, she even consoled Soon when he cried” said one of them making you smile a bit. By this time Seungkwan had stopped with you too eavesdropping on his friends as he is as dramatic as one can be.

“She is nothing like what you described her to be you know, she is nice and kind and far from being stuck up,” someone else said.

“Nah she is not, that stuck up once you get to know her, contrary to that she is very cheery and I like her you know,” Jeonghan had replied making you feel extra giddy inside.

“Hey bro if you like her that much maybe we should call off the deal we made, I see how much you like her and if you ask me, I will say she is a keeper,” with this statement, a silence washed over the whole group. You looked at Seungkwan to understand what was happening, but the man refused to look at you still stubbornly pretending to listen to the conversation.

“I said I like her, not like her enough to let go of the five thousand you offered” you suddenly heard Jeonghan speak making you even more confused about the whole ordeal.

“I think you will regret it you let her go hyung,” Seokmin suddenly said with a very somber tone generating a lot of assertive noises from the group.

“She won’t bring me five thousand, plus I fucked her got into a relationship with her and made her the fun-loving bitch she is now. It was a tedious process, but I completed my work, so I deserve the money.”

It was hard hearing the man you loved so much make such a degrading comment. At this point you were shaking with emotions so much that even Seungkwan who refused to look at you during this whole time, had to hold you steady.

“Did you know about this,” you asked him.

The boy with his eyes downcast just nodded his head.

“I won’t even ask you why you didn’t tell me about it, I get it you are his friend makes sense.”

“Hey none of us wanted him to do anything like this, but your Jeonghan is unstoppable sometimes and about the wrong things.”

“I think I should get going, I’ve heard enough.”

“Hey y/n we like you a lot, so please stay in contact with us later, no matter what your verdict is,” the younger man pleaded with glistening eyes, making you almost accept the request out of pity.

You ignored everyone and strode into the room bustling with men, heading straight for the couch. Without hesitation, you grabbed your bag and, as you walked out, approached Jeonghan and delivered a firm slap to his face. "We're done," you declared before exiting the room without glancing at anyone else.

--

The minute you had left, Jeonghan felt his life crashing down on him. The looks of disapproval from his friends and the pure disappointment that radiated off you caught him off guard. He had thought he could get out of it with both the girl and the money, but suddenly he realized he didn’t even need the said money, he only needed you. The weight of his words came to haunt me as soon as he had spoken them.

He immediately attempted to follow you but was stopped by Seungkwan, “did you see her face, if you follow her now, she will resent you more. Not like you don’t deserve it, but you are still my friend.”

The tone of his voice showed how much he was upset with Jeonghan. So much so that the younger male could not even look at his face.

“You are my hyung, but you know what I like her more, never have I ever thought you would do something like this,” he continued, “I hope she never forgives you.”  

Hearing that Jeonghan couldn’t control himself and punched Seungkwan and a fight broke out. The boys trying their best to resolve it.

“It’s already a mess, can you both stop making it worse!” Mingyu said as Seungkwan punched Jeonghan back square on the jaw.

“Tell that shit to not meddle in my business then” comes Jeonghan’s voice.

“Maybe if you didn’t break her heart I wouldn’t, she was a fucking nice person,” Seungkwan shouted back as Mingyu dragged him out.

The night was ruined, and it was all because of Jeonghan.

--

That night you came home and cried your heart out ignoring all the calls from Jeonghan and the other boys, with whom you had exchanged numbers during the hangout. Thankfully, it was a Sunday the next day, so you didn’t have to look at the man who broke your heart, but it pained you so much to even move a muscle. It was like your heart was ripped out of your body. The pain was immeasurable.

There were at least a hundred missed calls on your phone and thirty of them from all of the boys. Your best friend come to your place that Sunday and tried her best to console a sad you, but nothing could stop you from beating yourself up for trusting a man like him. it’s true you loved him, and you regrated doing so, you didn’t blame Jeonghan for breaking your heart, you blamed yourself for being weak enough for you to let Jeonghan do so to you, for letting the man step all over you like you were a piece of trash that had no place in the normal world. The degrading things that he had said about you kept echoing in your ears, making it hard for you to think of anything else.

It was like you had forgotten all about your vow to never let anyone step over you and take away a piece of you from yourself. You were so hurt that you refused to see Jeonghan at all. So, on the next Monday you asked your HR for a weeklong leave and the kind lady obliged owing to your stellar performance at your department.

You turned off your phone that week and went to stay with you friend as the house was too lonely for you and the more you stayed there, the more you felt the memories of you and Jeonghan coming to haunt you.

--

On that Monday, Jeonghan woke up with a newfound determination. He was resolved to confront you and explain that his hurtful words from that night stemmed from his own inability to accept his feelings. He believed that once he clarified his side of the story, your compassionate nature would lead you to forgive him. He was even prepared to humble himself, willing to beg for your forgiveness if necessary. However, fate intervened when he discovered you had taken a week-long leave from the office.

The realization of consequences hit him suddenly. Yes, he understood the gravity of his actions, but he was willing to face any repercussions if it meant having you back in his arms. Anything seemed bearable compared to the thought of losing you.

By Wednesday, Jeonghan found himself standing at your doorstep, desperately knocking, hoping to speak with you. To his dismay, a neighbor informed him that you had been absent since Monday. His heart sank realizing he had missed his chance to reconcile with you.

He had made a solemn vow to himself that he would reach out to you no matter what obstacles lay in his path, willing to go to any lengths to make amends. However, he now realized the depth of his mistake. Reflecting on his actions, he understood that he should have heeded the advice of his friends earlier, but it was too late for regrets.

Jeonghan's determination to win you back consumed him. He felt a deep pang of regret for not acting sooner and for failing to appreciate the warnings from his friends. Now, facing the reality of your absence, he grappled with the weight of his impulsive behavior.

In the days that followed, Jeonghan resolved to wait patiently for your return, determined to seize any opportunity to make things right. He hoped against hope that he hadn't irreparably damaged the bond between you. Each passing day without you served as a sobering reminder of the importance of listening to his instincts and valuing the counsel of those who cared about him.

--

The next week you opened your phone to see it has blown up with Jeonghan’s messages and there were a few from Seungkwan asking you if you are okay and telling you that he had punched Jeonghan for being an asshole to you and that most of the people didn’t agree with Jeonghan’s antics but its hard to stop Jeonghan when is like that.

Taking pity of the boy you and answered him accepting his apology and telling him you were happy that he punched the guy.

His answer came immediately, saying he was happy that there is no bad blood among you two and he prefers you more than Jeonghan anyways making you laugh at his cuteness.

When you returned back to the office, the first thing you did was hand them your resignation letter. The next thing on your list was avoid Jeonghan till you leave work, at which you were pretty successful.

And just like that you were done with your time in the office and were moving onto another job before Jeonghan could even get hold of you.

--

Its has been three years since and life had never been better. You became friends with Seungkwan, Seokmin and Soonyoung immediately. You four hangout quite frequently. The three younger men like you a lot too. It’s a strong bond you have created with them. If anyone asks you would say the only good thing that came from your ex was the friends you made while with him.

On top of that you also have been in a relation with a man who treats you right and loves you to death. Its like you have at last reached the light at the end of the tunnel.

--

Jeonghan on the other hand drowned himself in work after you left, the man tried his best to forget your existence and was very thankful his work helped him do so. But whenever he was out with his friends he couldn’t stop himself from asking about you and always he got the same answer of ‘none of your fucking business’ from Seungkwan.

But it was different this time, it was the ever so kind Seokmin who answered him.

“Hyung she moved on, and you should too.” Hearing that he stood up, he didn’t know why. Would he go to your house and beg for your forgiveness again or will he call you while asking you to give him another chance?

Truth to be told, he didn’t know.

“Hyung please don’t mess this up for her. She is happy,” Seokmin spoke up again, kindly holding his hand to pull him down back onto his seat. It felt like Jeonghan’s life has come crashing down on him once again. One lone tear left his eye, too embarrassed to cry in front of his friends, he puts up a happy front while saying “of course Seok, I would do nothing to hurt her.”

All his friends looked at the man in pity, hoping that faith was kinder to him. but they couldn’t deny that he single handedly destroyed his life either. He was still their friend and he deserved to be happy to but so did you. The man sat in silence for some time till Joshua loudly declared he wanted to go to the arcade and all the others enthusiastically agreed, happy about the distraction.

That is when Jeonghan realized life has gone on and not stopped for anyone, the time he was supposed to seize his moment has passed and it wont ever come back. He now has to live his life without the presence of one of the most precious thing he ever had the privilege to possess, your love.

a/n 3: thank you all for reading !!

[chrissdollie]

jess mariano headcanons bc i finally think they’re worthy enough to post

bought your basket omg

he’s like a little kid he loves laser tag it’s so cute 😭

gives you a book filled with annotations of his as a gift

holds your books and your backpack over one shoulder, the other hand holding your hand and walking you to class, leaving you with a kiss on the forehead and lips before wishing you a good class :,)

whenever you get hurt (like a bruise or a cut), he always comes to you like “aww baby, did you get a booboo? its okayyy” like obviously he’s teasing but it’s still cute🤭

always going on drives together

you two get a puppy eventually

nicknames: angel, pretty girl, babe, honey, baby, sweet girl/sweets, sweetheart, snookums (as a joke alr)

when you two walk together, he’s attacking tickling your face in kisses and his hand in your back pocket, arm around your waist, or shoulders

TOTALLY points out when something funny happens in public. like if kirk splits his pants LOL. or even better, if taylor TRIPS AND FALLS (very rare). like he’ll walk by him and purposefully be like “it’s a lovely day today isn’t it sweetheart?” and kiss your cheek ignoring taylor

inside jokes WOWOWOWOW the best i’m telling you. ONE time you couldn’t open the door to luke’s apartment (you were having a very off day) and he would not stop pestering you about it omg. now every time he opens a door, he pretends to forget how to open it just to mess with you

PDA>>>

naps together <33 normally he’s the big spoon but sometimes he’ll be the little spoon. he doesn’t necessarily have to be upset or anything, it’s just a nice change for him every once in a while. and plus, he likes feeling your hands in his hair

insane reflexes!! most of the time when he’s looking at you and you throw something at him, he can catch it. no biggie. sometimes even when he’s turned around just because he knows you so well ;)

you guys trade books allll the time! it’s like a system honestly and sometimes you’ll forget whether a book belonged to you or him first. but if you’re not really into reading, he will definitely try to get you into some good authors!

ugh i’m so in love with him❤️❤️❤️

[arcade-chaos]

Eldritch Scritches

Everyone say ty daycare friend pickup for this drabble

First person POV, eldritchy mer moon x reader, a tiny bit of 'last day on earth' before 'the sacrifice' but its not for long and theres nothing too scary beyond Moon shenanigans. Very silly and indulgent, enjoy!

You quite literally signed up for this. The village was sad to see you go, but you had offered yourself up and no one could think of anything to say to convince you. Everyone knew this needed to be done, you were the only barrier between the things beyond and your home. 

Those who were rich enough left you all behind, desperately hoping to outrace the end of time itself, but this was your home and you were willing to do whatever you needed to stop it from coming to an end. 

The town wished you the best of luck, treasures and sweet treats to make what they assumed would be your last day as lovely as possible. When the sun set you set off towards the beach and the endless dock, the wood worn but surprisingly unrotted by the tide. The ocean grew quieter the further you walked out, it took a moment to realize the stars were blinking down at you. You would show them no fear, even if your heart was racing. 

When you reached the end you merely waited, glancing around for a toothy maw or an echoing voice. Instead the first thing you noticed was how black the ocean was, swelling not like a wave but as a mound. A spill of inky blackness pushed up through the water, little starry lights on its body winking and flickering as two larger ones opened. One red, one white. 

“Mortal.” The world whispered, no other sounds daring to cover the ancient voice. “What do you have to offer me?”

Tales of escaping death flicker through your mind, of Scheherazade and her many stories, of trading souls of crows and deer to quell death's hunger, even Sisyphus's tricks (even if they did bite him in the end). All of those ideas escaped your brain as your mouth opened. 

“I could give you some scritches.” The coil of blacky ink stopped moving for only the briefest flicker, the cool rush of air that slipped off his coils stilling. 

“What.” It asked, quiet and disbelieving. Your hands came up to where his probably-eyes shimmered, grabbing at the frigid air. 

“Y’know. Scratches. Pets.” With that he began to shift again, the eyes coming closer down, zeroed in on you alone. A god looking down at an ant. 

“You think me a pet?”

“Afraid you’d like it?” An ant with hubris apparently. The air hummed as it thought, the fabric of space itself splitting as rows of teeth shimmered in the moonlight. 

“You have one of your ‘hours’ to convince me this is a worthy sacrifice.” You have half a mind to make up some lie and say you can’t possibly touch him from here, but he coils again before you can think, the cold air that had been rushing your hair back suddenly turning as he shrinks down in on himself. His new form is more humanoid, with tendrils of that inky blackness instead of legs and a mouth far too wide. He grins, eyes red as the devil as his long arms come to rest on the dock. You don’t let him have the satisfaction of whatever line he's thinking up, instead you sit down on the worn wood and pat your lap. 

Like calling a cat.

An ancient terrifying kitty who only wants food and prey. 

Just like a cat actually. 

His grin waivers for a moment before shooting back up, the night sky warping behind him as he moves too fast to hover over you. Even when making himself small he still needed to be bigger than you. Go figure. 

“Hurry hurry.” He crackles, his head tilting at an unnatural angle. 

“Eager.” Your hand meets his jaw as you stretch up, feeling the way the flesh ripples under your touch. Like petting a waterbed, surprisingly not as chilly as the wind he had been pushing around, that was a boon. He stayed quiet as your fingertips rubbed careful circles, glad you cut your nails prior lest he think you were trying to harm him (you doubted he would let you anyhow). 

It took a moment to register what you were hearing, the chilling silence had been put away in favor of the normal sounds of night. The waves lapping at the beach far behind, the crickets even further, and the strangely comforting sound droning out of the body in front of you. 

Oh gods he was purring. 

His eyes that had slowly begun to shut opened to frown as you tried to suppress a smile, your other hand moving to cup his face. He shuddered beneath the little touches, leaning more and more of his weight into you until he literally fell into your lap. You snorted at the sudden intrusion, moving a hand instead up to his head to smooth it back. His hands clawed at the wood on either side of your legs, the purrs vibrating through your knees and legs. 

His head was devoid of hair, instead topped with another tentacle. Little wobbly yellowish spots occasionally opened to peer at your face, forcing you to stroke his head with single digits unless you wanted to poke one of them out and ruin any chance you had at saving the world. 

If they had told you it was this easy you might’ve actually let someone else do it instead.

Eventually your hands went back down onto the wood, the feeling of something not giving under you was both grounding and strange. The ancient one let out a louder rumble, then a louder one before popping up, glaring at you with the heat of a thousand volcanic vents. 

“Why have you stopped, mortal.” He hissed, getting as close to your face as he dared. 

“It’s been an hour, I figured I’d see if I’ve convinced you.” You were trying not to sound too cheeky, but he huffed and turned away anyways. 

“You have done… Well.” His grin grew again, one of his hands coming up to grip your leg. “However, that was not enough to put me to sleep for even a year. This token was hardly worth the day’s end. You have until tomorrow, then I will eat the whole world.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You tugged away, dusting the splinters of wood off your legs as he watched. “Oh,” You turned, smiling as he straightened up a little under your eyes “They never told me your name.” His eyes tilted up at the question, his little tendril hat flickering about. 

“You will call me Moon.” 

“See you tomorrow then, Moon.” And with that you headed back towards the little town you called home. 

Days and, more importantly, nights passed like this for a long while. It seemed that Moon’s hunger wasn’t only for the world, but also for any form of affection he could get. Most nights he would rest his head in your lap and purr, clawing at the wooden safety of the dock. One night you decided to start bringing a blanket and were delighted when he started kneading it like biscuit dough. 

Little cat indeed. 

Sometimes you two would talk while you sat, he didn’t have a lot of experiences to talk about, but he seemed to like listening to you talk about your day. The goings on in your life, the shock of the town that he hadn’t eaten you or their world yet, what kind of treats you made for dinner. 

When you brought him a little pie he looked over the moon (ha), the cherry filling dripping down his hands would’ve looked a lot more terrifying if his ‘hat’ wasn’t wagging at 90 miles per hour. You made him wash the sticky mess before cuddling, and as a token for cleanliness you let him drag you into his lap. The vibrations from his mouth into the nape of your neck was ticklish, but not terrible enough that you regretted it. The little spines down his back curling into your fingers as though they were trying to snatch you up and hold you there forever. 

That was the first night you lost count of the time, staying almost two hours before you realized your mistake. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll let that count towards tomorrow?” Moon’s face scrunched more than you thought possible, making you giggle as you waved off the idea. “Guess not.”

The nights only seemed to grow longer from there, either by your own hand or by his (you suspected some nights he warped time to move just a little slower, but there was never any proof beyond his sly little grin and wiggling tendrils). 

“You fell asleep during our time little mortal.” He purred, his hand cupping your face as you tried your best to stay awake enough to hear. “You’ll owe me more time tomorrow.” You were too sleepy to argue (despite the fact he definitely knocked you over so you’d be laying down), nuzzling back into the blanket for five more minutes that stretched on for a bit longer than they should’ve. 

One night he was more riled up than you had ever seen, the ocean rolling as his tendrils kicked them up. He didn’t even straighten up when you called out to him, instead he seemed to pout even more.

“What’s wrong nighty?” Moon huffed, pulling you to the edge of the dock instead so he could keep kicking up the ocean (though notably the bubble around you two stayed calm). 

“The mortals have made a terrible treachery against me! After I have been so kind as to allow them into my waters!!” Ah yes, another hour in favor of him letting boats leave the harbor to look for more people. Your hands rubbed over his tendril hat, squeezing it back as it wrapped around your wrist. 

“Oh dear, what did they do this time.” Moon hissed, his fingers digging into the back of your shirt as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip. 

“They have made noises at me.” Your brain fizzled out for a second before the giggles kicked in, Moon whining in indignation as he buried his face into your tummy. 

“Horrible! Cruel! Laughing at my pains! They make loud honkings at me like geese! After I was so kind!” 

“Aww poor baby, how could they honk at such a powerful thing?” 

“Terrible, laughing at my pain! You agree with their honkings!” 

“C’mon now, I’m sure they were just trying to get you out of the way. Maybe they were thanking you for not taking out your wrath on them?” Moon huffed, rubbing his face against your shirt. 

“A horrible offering. You owe me double for their treachery. 

“Alright, alright. Just for tonight.” 

It never was. 

[theaudientvoid]

So, since both DC and Marvel are currently launching initiatives to created "simplified" continuities in a bid to attract new readers, I should probably do a periodic reminder about why efforts to "simplify" continuity almost never work, and even if they did, I don't think that simplified continuity is nearly as laudable goal as many people seem to thing.

In practice, attempts to simplify continuity almost always end up making continuity more complicated. Let's take the Marvel's current attempt, relaunching the Ultimate Universe. This is meant to be a new universe that readers can pick up of the rack without having to worry about decades of continuity baggage. So far, so good. The problem is that this is the second time that Marvel has done this trick using this exact name. So now, any time a prospective new reader hears about Ultimate Spider-Man, well which one are they hearing about. The old one from the 2000s who was a teenager, or the new one that's, like, 35?

The fate of the original Ultimate Universe is instructive. It went on for over a decade, and by the end had built up its own convoluted continuity, such that Marvel eventually decided to just pull the plug and merge it over into the main universe.

Now, keep in mind, the "New" Ultimate Universe is selling like hot cakes. Ultimate Spider-Man is currently out selling the main Spider-Man book. But how much of that is from "simplified" continuity, and how much of that is because Marvel editorial is committed to maintaining a status quo for the character in the main universe that many readers find uninteresting? (They still haven't undone One More Day.)

It's also instructive that Marvel chose to reuse the "Ultimate" name. If they really wanted to excise continuity baggage, presumably they'd pick an entirely new name, to prevent any threat of namespace collision. But that's not what they did. Presumably, they were hoping to capitalize on any residual good will associated with the Ultimate brand left over from the original Ultimate universe. Which new readers, who supposedly hate continuity, won't have.

All that being said, though, is "simplifying" continuity even all that worthy a goal in the first place? I'm not convinced it is. So, like, the thing to keep in mind is that Marvel and DC's business model is oriented around selling single issues to a small pool of collectors at exorbitant prices. Once a issues initial print run(s) end, it becomes an afterthought from the standpoint of the decision makers at the big two.

So, from the perspective of convincing randoms off the street to buy the latest issue of Batman, that decades of continuity baggage probably is an impediment. But, I would argue, it's not nearly as big an impediment that as the fact that single issues are a) expensive as fuck, and b) only sold in specialized stores. If you want to grow the population of comic readers, the biggest things you need to do are lower the price, and sell them in places that normies actually go to.

DC recently, with relatively little fanfare, started an initiative to sell collected additions of a handful of classic stories from their back catalog in regular book stores. Importantly, however, these special collections all collect 12 issues, and cost only $10. For comparison, ordinary trade paperbacks collect 6 issues and cost $17. Single issues run you $4 or $5. This is an okay start, but not nearly enough. If I was in charge of DC or Marvel, I would start by aggressively marketing our back catalog to non-comic readers at significantly reduced prices. Note that this would still allow us to continue selling single issues to super fans at full price, while also having a realistic prospect of growing the market. Because the idea that Marvel or DC can get people into comics by convincing them to walk into a comic shop off the street and pay $5 per issue for the latest crossover event is just absurd.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

"Creator Reforged" is (chef's kiss) concise and yet Exactly What It Says On The Tin lmao, big brain! Poor Sucrose in Ch7 tho: she must be traumatised too, for lack of better description.

Oh oh! May I send an ask for the Follower Special? How would the acolytes react to a creator who crochets/knits/sews them various clothes and accessories? I feel like Childe would appreciate (and definitely smugly show off) any scarves or coats you make him lmao??? Liyue has nobles and society stuff, so maybe when Ningguang or the other Qixing wear trinkets/shawls that the Creator made, there'd be similar clothes in fashion? Inazuma and Sumeru seem pretty big on textiles (Silk, Cotton, maybe Wool/Fur?) so would they be smug at their textiles being featured in some of the creator's works??

Also, just a last thing: your writing style ABSOLUTELY gives off shounen light novel vibes. It's honestly perfect for Genshin, imo.

Yeah, no one in that situation is really in their best mind at that point. Albedo, Sucrose, and the reader are all likely not thinking straight. (Hopefully going to get back to work on it soon...)

And thank you for the compliment! I'm honestly not all that familiar with shounen light novels, but I hope that the eldritch/weird moments that undergird party of my writing don't distract too hard.

A/N: Getting back on the wagon. ...And I let myself stray to an adjacent yet (in my opinion) equally interesting version of the Creator. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7k

CW: None?

Masterpost

taglist @iyohme

The night in Liyue was young. Though the furthest edge of the sky still wore the faintest remnant of the day’s glory, the rest of the sky glammered with pearlescent stars, crowned with a nearly full moon, and bounded in the north where an azure comet tugged at the sky as it fell.

Far below these celestial sights, the opulent city of Liyue slumbered, nestled between its towering mountains and perched beside the tranquil sea. Uncountable lanterns burned quiet and low, illuminating the streets just enough so the guards could patrol yet low enough to allow the citizens to rest.

Though the thousand hands of the industrious city lay low, not all of the city was asleep. In the city’s main hall, where the highest matters of state and commerce were conducted by words and contracts, through coins and goods, by bribes and threats, different kinds of activity were taking place. Heads of states, merchants, nobles, and the like from nearby Sumeru, Inazuma, Fontaine, and a few from even further afield, met and socialized with each other. They forged and renewed acquaintanceships, sought new avenues of commerce and trade, discussed and reviewed new discoveries and theories.

The event there was in full swing. Chandeliers with ornate carvings in Cor Lapis diffused amber light across the whole room. People clustered around the room, conversations flowing as freely as the drinks. The front of the hall was dominated by a stained glass relief of the Creator, The Forge of Days. Though no light filtered in through the myriad colors, the veiled image of Her figure seemed to glow with its own glorious light.

Gathered at the front of the room were piles of gifts and offerings. In years past, they would have been iron and copper, silver and gold, crystals with shimmering hues and gems with an unfathomably deep color.

But recently, their Creator had undergone a change of hobbies. The hands of The Forge rarely sat idle, but the items She created would change with her interests. For months, Her hammer and tongs sat idle, Her billows quiet, and Her fires cold. She’d found a new craft to occupy Her hands for a while, and the people followed Her whims.

A different bounty had been gathered tonight at her feet: bolts of cloth in all kinds of dyes and textures, spools of thread in every color imaginable, skeins of yarn that seemed to glimmer with gold spun into their material. These, the people hoped, would gather Her attention and affection enough to be worthy of receiving a gift from Her in turn. Though She chafed at formalities and ceremonies, these She would bear to see Her creations given.

Tonight, there was no shortage of people gathered to show off the artifacts that She had personally forged, crafted, or spun and then given so generously. It was hard to miss the heads of state and important nobles- Ningguang was garbed with plenty of jewelry of gold and amber and topaz. Keqing kept at her side, displayed prominently, a sword forged of impossibly sharp steel and inlaid with awe-inspiring arrangements of Inazuman amethyst.

Few were arrayed so brilliantly as them, but one person stood taller and prouder than both. In the middle of a group of weary and exasperated onlookers, a peculiar Snezhnyy man bragged about and paraded off his new gift. Tartaglia was not much loved by the people of Liyue- connections to the Fatui tended to do that- but showing off the new turquoise scarf generously pooled around his shoulders, studded with constellations of pearl stars, strained the patience of most.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Afong?” Tartaglia chided a merchant who finally had enough of him and tried to leave, “Can’t stand the sight of someone who has one of Her new styles? What do you have, just a tarnished, old bracelet? I think She’d be embarrassed to see that old thing in public! It’s probably for the best that She tosses that dull thing back into the furnace and starts over from scratch.”

A small, timid voice came up behind him, “Tartaglia, isn’t that enough?” He spun on his heel to see who spoke up, the half-adeptus Ganyu. She was carrying a tray of food in her arms which clearly had a wide selection. “You’re going too far with what you’re saying.”

“Listen, Цилинь,” Childe plucked one of the morsels from her tray, something skewered on a wooden pick, “talk to me when Her Grace decides to visit you with something noteworthy. I can tell,” he gestured down to the arm he could see, “that She gave you some pity. I remember hearing about that meager ring She made, Her last product before turning her sights to Her new craft.” He eyed the ring set with an aquamarine gem, then slid his gaze to what sat on her wrist. “But I didn’t hear about that.”

A dainty, delicate work of lace lay barely hidden under her sleeve, like a fine layer of ice had been worked around her wrist. While many would merely overlook it, it contained many curious details the likes of which would only be seen with Her handiwork- notably, the centerpiece of it was a recreation of Ganyu’s vision- frame, cryo symbol, even the subtle cracks and chips were represented through Her handiwork.

“The Forge of Days generously gifted it to me.”

“An early work of hers, probably. Most likely, she made it to familiarize herself with the craft, getting the early failures out of her system.”

“Did Her Diligence make a single weapon for you?”

There was a momentary flash of anger on his face- the first anyone had seen that night. It was quickly gone, but Ganyu had turned and left before she could notice. She heard another conversation haltingly spin up as she walked away, before fading into the noises of the party.

Ganyu left the party, following a familiar path of hallways as the sounds behind her began to become muddled and indistinct under the weight of their echoes. She turned a few corners, passing various shrines placed to honor and venerate the Adepti, mostly, but also the other benevolent beings who shared the region with the city and who helped guide its people in the past. Designed to impress and show off Liyue’s splendor like the main hall, there was little expense spared for these collections as well.

She slowed, then came to a stop. She was nearly on the other side of the building from the main hall, and her surroundings looked like it. This space was dominated by a large door formed of wood and metal, something that looked more at home in the industrial sections of the city, not here among the shrines. The walls and floor here were dirty- darkened soot seemed to almost grow on any available surface and the air was thick with the smell of earth and fire.

To a place built to celebrate the divine and the supernatural beasts that crowned this corner of the earth, this seemed wildly out of place. But Ganyu, among other important people in Liyue’s governing bodies, knew the truth of this location.

Ganyu balanced her tray on one hand and reached out to one of the enormous door handles. It took a bit of force, but the doors began gliding open, ethereally and unearthly quiet. She passed through the doors and began descending the stairs below, each one decorated with a different pattern of golden crystals that glowed in a circle around anyone walking down them. To Ganyu, it looked like the steps were being cast from the darkness just steps ahead of her as she descended. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she heard the doors behind her gently close by themselves, a soft but unmistakable noise through the space she just entered.

And what a space it was.

Lit by larger clusters embedded in the walls, not too dissimilar to those on the stairs, the room was a crafter’s dream. Uncountable machines of industry filled the space, of every type and make, most repaired by hand after their user damaged them from overuse or overapplication of force. They were distributed about the room by trade- over there sat the forge, its bellows quiet and the stockpiles of coal, iron, silver, gold, and countless other metals full and ready; there rested every tool one needed to hew art and purpose from any stock of lumber one chose; there rested 

And through the middle of it all, and under the low dais in the center, ran a stream, to quench and cool the products of the forge, to supply the (currently disengaged) mechanisms with power.

And sitting there on that dais, bathed in light from a ring of crystals suspended over Her head, surrounded by an impressive array of tools and stock of materials all at Her fingertips, the Creator moved with impressive speed. Her hands flew from one movement to the next, a blindingly fast dance between Her fingers, the tools, and the dress that She was weaving on the mannequin in front of Her.

Ganyu set the tray down on a nearby table that wasn’t totally overrun with supplies and materials, pushing a few bolts of cloth out of the way. She carefully stepped through a field of bobbins, careful not to upset or step on any. As she approached the Creator, she wondered if She had actually noticed her. “Pardon?” She tried to get Her attention, stretching a hand out to Her shoulder. “Burning Forge–?”

The Forge of Days suddenly snapped out of the way, Her head whirling around to glare at Ganyu, Her eyes burning a brilliant yellow-white from the focus on Her activity. Her glare was uncomforting on the best of days, but when She wielded it like this, Ganyu could almost feel the heat of the forge pouring on, through, and around her. She could feel some of her hair begin to singe.

Ganyu took a step back, covering her face. “M-My apologies! Ningguang only wanted me to check on You!” The heat began to bleed away from her, quickly dropping to a simmering heat. When Ganyu risked a glance, she found Her back at Her craft, continuing to weave like She hadn’t been interrupted. “I wanted to check in on you as well. I know it’s quiet down here, and I know you don’t like crowds–”

Her Industriousness made a noise of frustration as she pulled the last of the yarn taut. She spun in place, planting the hook in the dress, then grabbed a plain knife and walking (at a speed that should have been called running) over to a spinning wheel. She began gathering up Her hair in large handfuls, then cutting them off with quick, clean cuts of the knife.

As quickly as She had turned away from Ganyu, the heat had faded away; only the memory of the warmth remained. Ganyu winced to see Her shear so much of Her hair off so carelessly, but she knew there was a method behind Her actions. As She stopped in front of the spinning wheel, She set the knife aside and began turning the spinning wheel, arcs of magical light started being cast from it as it spun faster and faster. When the arcs began to connect into circles, She fed Her hairs into it one at a time, and began winding the resulting golden thread around an empty bobbin.

Ganyu took the moment to look the dress over now that the Weaver of Fates was away from it. The beautiful garment looked like it was painstakingly constructed- the various materials made it look like it was spun from the condensed light that shimmered over Liyue harbor every morning, the angles and sections of construction chosen to mesh with each other so seamlessly. With how She had woven it all together, it felt like the dress was creating itself, like it was destined to simply be.

Thinking back to the excruciating minutiae of measurements that She had made of her body (after she found the demand from her Creator carved on a slab of iron which was unceremoniously deposited on her working desk…), part of her hoped that it would turn out this beautiful.

As she looked back at the spinning wheel, she caught The Forge feeding the last of her liberated hairs into the wheel and loading the last of the thread onto an overloaded bobbin. She snapped it up in one hand and turned back to the mannequin to continue her work.

It was now or never. Her Industriousness hated being interrupted.

“Your Grace?” Ganyu started speaking before She could set down the bobbin. “I was just thinking about you. I know you don’t like social events, and they’d prepared so much for the party- I thought you’d appreciate me bringing you a sample of what they had.” Ganyu began talking faster as she started threading the needle. “I-I made sure to grab some of your favorites as well, and I wanted to…”

She eventually stopped herself. If Her Unending Warmth wasn’t interested in something, it was basically guaranteed to be a futile struggle to get Her to cooperate. None in all Teyvat could match Her strength and endurance, let alone Her abject stubbornness.

Ganyu turned to leave. “I… I should go. I should see if they need me upstairs again. I’ll–” She barely took a few steps before suddenly being stopped. Turning around, she saw that the Creator had lunged towards her to grab on to her, Her incredibly strong and calloused grip, able to crush stone and deform iron, gently but firmly wrapped around her arm.

She looked up and saw The Forge’s face, one that was so used to its grim and steadfast glare that its current one, creased with worry, almost looked unfamiliar. The light in Her eyes was still bright, but had cooled to an orange glow.

“…Stay.”

The single word croaked from Her throat, gravely and unclear from disuse. It was incredibly rare for Her to speak- it was said that lifetimes could come and go without her making so much as a single utterance.

“–! …Alright, I’ll stay here with you.”

Her Grace let go of her breath and the room seemed to warm. She released Her grip on Ganyu, who slipped off to find two chairs that could easily be decluttered and dragged over to the table.

“…For all the work Your Industriousness does, I’m surprised You don’t do more to keep things tidy down here.” She moved an armful of cloth up onto a table, where it likely would be a hazard later on. “But I’m sure no one complains because they just like it when You make things on time.” She struggled to maneuver herself and the chairs around all the other clutter, but Her Grace managed to move through it with surprising, well, grace.

“There.” Ganyu set the two chairs down and it wasn’t long after She sat that She popped the lid off the tray and grabbed two different treats, offering the smaller one to her. She gave Her a light punch on the shoulder (that likely only hurt herself) then accepted it. After She started biting into the delicacy, Ganyu saw the light in Her eyes had dimmed further into a reddish glow, the natural steel gray beginning to show through near Her pupils.

The Forge labored many long hours to hone Her craft and produce all kinds of goods. Ganyu figured it was best to let Her rest for a while.

[numinousmysteries]

For the prompts: Mulder peering into the wondrous world of his fishtank.

This prompt is ancient now but the muse strikes when the muse strikes. Origin story of Mulder’s fish tank comes from @sagan-starstuff's brilliant post here. (I also don't actually. think I answered the prompt but this is what happened.)

A true one-bedroom in a good neighborhood—”in walking distance to Old Town,” according to the matronly realtor—2630 Hegal Place wasn’t a posh address but it wasn’t a total shithole either. Despite his burning instinct for self-flagellation, Fox Mulder’s trust fund parachute and Brooks Brothers upbringing would only let him stoop so low. Still, it was dreary enough to feel like a punishment.

He wasn’t naive enough to think that apartment 42 would be the answer to life, the universe, and everything, but it was an appropriate answer to the question of where to put a brooding man, ears still ringing from the shellshock of a failed six-month marriage. A fitting habitat for a 20th-century Heathcliff in virgin wool Zegna suits locked on course to ruin his professional reputation in the name of a long-lost sister and memories he didn’t fully trust. 

It was meant to be a stopgap. He signed a month-to-month lease. Months turned to years.

Late at night, dozing on the couch (beds are for men deserving of rest, who have the luxury of shutting off their brains a third of each day with no need for constant vigilance), the only light came from the fish tank. 

He hated the fucking fish at first, resented their glorious ignorance, their freedom from the burden of comprehension and consequence. The tank and its occupants were a housewarming/divorce gift from the Gunmen; a poorly-considered insurance policy against what they expected was his impending suicide. Fuck them, he thought, let the fish die. Let it all burn to the ground. After two days of mutual starvation, though, he locked eyes with a translucent molly and felt his humanity pulse beneath callused layers of cynicism. He tipped the container of freeze-dried flakes into the tank. He made himself a piece of dry toast. 

Newton’s first law of motion governs that action begets action. He kept rising every morning, searching for the truth, and feeding the fish. 

He was assigned a new partner. She fed the fish when he was detained in military custody, quarantined with a parasite of unknown origin, or chasing radio signals in Caribbean jungles.  

But Scully didn’t belong in his fox den. His newspaper-plastered bile nest. 

Her home was light where his was dark, soft where his was hard, warm where his was cold. She displayed framed family photos out in the open. Apple-cheeked baby nephews. A younger Scully in a cap and gown with her father grinning beside her. He hid an album of patrilineal co-conspirators under the false bottom of a desk drawer. Unsmiling men quietly plotting the demise of all mankind over cans of Rheingold in well-manicured backyards. Demerol-dazed wives trading their children for Givenchy dresses and empty promises of a valiant future. 

All her blonde wood Pottery Barn furniture and Yankee Candle torches couldn’t protect her from his darkness, though. Duane Barry stepped right into her sanctum and tore her away from him.

He took off on an ill-fated West Coast vampire hunt that ended in a bloodless climax and a three-alarm blaze. Somehow, all but one of his fish survived. He flushed down the fallen soldier, contemplating the shortcomings of mortality and the prison of eternity. 

Bleary-eyed and broken, he sat in the darkness, his gaze darting between his loaded gun and the glowing tank. This new knowledge of himself—that he was a man who’d kill in cold blood for vengeance—threatened to obliterate his reluctant detente with the fish. By tomorrow morning, he would no longer be their worthy steward. 

A knock on the door. Melissa Scully entered, her presence a tauntingly inaccurate facsimile of the woman he wanted to see. She was a few inches too tall, her hair several shades too dark, her rosy worldview miles off base. But she wasn’t that different from his partner after all. She called him out on his masochistic bullshit and saw the light within him. 

Newton’s second law of motion states that an object requires a commensurate force to launch it into action. He doesn’t believe that. These wispy Scully women with their birdlike bones and feather-soft breath shouldn’t have the power to lift him out from under two decades of self-hatred—but they do. So he put his faith in this patchouli-scented witchy sister with her silk choker and mall-bought crystals, bid the fish (and his blood-stained, testosterone-fueled revenge fantasy) goodbye, and went to see his dying partner.

[elliespeach]

the air that i breathe part two | ellie williams

pairing: ellie williams x afab reader wordcount: 4k synopsis: a camping trip you and ellie embark on takes a devastating turn. with you in the hands of raiders ellie's sanity is brought to her breaking point and she will stop at nothing to get you back. warnings: 18+ ellie n readers headspace is very dark!! depression, panic attacks, horrible desperation, and lots of trauma responses that are vividly described. graphic depictions of violence, kidnapping, reader is confined in a cell by chains, food/water deprivation, hallucinations, there is animal death in this part, ellie is basically santa barabra ellie but multiply it by thirty n reader is like trapped in the dark so i think that counts as claustrophobia. this fic can b very triggering so pls take the tags seriously!! there is little to no fluff in this part my bad author note: hiiii im sorry this took me so long to get out and its not even as long or as good as i want it to beeee. i have been struggling with motivation and this is as much as i could bring myself to do! so sorry for another cliff hanger,, it wasn't suppose to be like that but i am lazzyyy and depressed i hope this worthy

 readers pov – present 

“ellie, wake up–” you begged, pulling your chain as far as you could go. you were nearly dislocating your leg to try to be near her, but the chain only allowed you to go so far and ellie was on the other side of the room. it was dark again, after knocking her out the man had heaved ellie to the far side of the basement, and propped her limp body against the wall. you pleaded with him but he didn’t utter a word and promptly flipped off the lights and harshly slammed the door. spewing curses and mumbles under his breath that you dared not decipher. 

your heart ached, as if it wasn’t already. she was here, she was saving you and now it was like all hope had been ripped away. you wanted to cry, scream and shout but your energy was depleted. the man had also taken her backpack that had been laying by the door, leaving you utterly helpless yet again. you had grown accustomed to the dark in your time held prisoner, time still didn’t make any sense to you. but you knew it had only been a few minutes since he slammed the door, but the silence was taken over by the clicking of the lock and you swiftly backed up to the wall again. 

the door opened and the lights flicked on, through your stinging eyes you could see it was a woman. she didn’t acknowledge you at all and just walked over to ellie and it was then you saw she had a similar but smaller chain. “we can give you anything, just let us go home,” you whispered while the woman knelt down and began to wrap up ellie’s leg with the chain. she shook her head, not answering. “please, we can trade with you. we can forget all of thi–” you were cut off by the sound of an explosion from outside and the woman snapped her head towards the open metal door. she said something under her breath before sloppily attaching the restraint to the hook in the wall. 

she tugged on it, making sure it was in place. meanwhile gunfire erupted from the streets, the sound making it’s way all the way down into the basement and the woman looked panicked while she made her way towards the door, not even glancing at you once. as if she couldn’t bear it. “don’t do this! don’t leave us here!” the strain in your voice was prominent, the desperation even more so and she stopped in the doorframe, her back to you but you knew she was contemplating something. a glimmer of hope sparked in your chest, the woman didn’t turn around but she swiveled her head to the side not looking at you fully but just enough for you to know you had somewhat gotten through. the gunfire was louder than ever, distant screams could be heard as well and you worried that if they all died you two would rot down here forever. 

a mumbled, “i’m sorry,” came from the woman, you barely heard it with everything going on above ground. her fingers hovered over the light switch for a quick second, she finally took a good look at you and quickly reverted her eyes to the floor. the woman took her hand back, leaving the light on before shutting the door behind her. another explosion from the streets made the floor rattle beneath you, dust falling from the now cracked ceiling above you. but you were focused on ellie and again you brought yourself to the middle of the room to be closer to her. you could see her hands twitching slightly and you inhaled a sharp breath, “ellie!” you screamed over the muffled shooting, looking back up to the cracked ceiling. her eyes shot open in a panic hearing the world around her and she looked confused as she gazed upon you before her eyes fell to her ankle, wrapped in a chain. 

a loud crashing sound came from above, it wasn’t an explosion but it was definitely something big and you both flinched as it rumbled the room. using her very little energy to leap towards you, she came up short, her restraint stopping her just a few feet from you but it felt like miles. ellie cursed, turning to look at the metal around her ankle before looking back at you, the fear was present in her eyes which troubled you. ellie wasn’t one to fear most things, but in this moment she was terrified. not for herself, but for you. “your chain, ellie–” you spoke, pointing to the wall behind her. there was no time for anything else and ellie immediately turned her head to examine it. 

it was very obviously loose, a few good tugs and it would be out of the wall unlike yours which was bolted in. the woman who had done it being distracted by the events outside, or the guilt. either way, it worked in your favor as ellie began to aggressively try to pull it out of the cement wall. “come on!” she grunted, using all her strength. another explosion above made the room shake and she looked back at you for a quick second, making sure you were okay. returning her focus to the wall she wrapped the chain around her wrist and leaned back. the bolt came flying out of the wall, dust crumbling to the ground below it. 

she swiftly came over to you, cupping your face again, “are you okay? can you stand?” she rushed out, practically yelling over the gunfire that felt like it was getting louder as the time went on. she gently helped you up, propping you against the wall. “get your strength, we’re leaving–” her hands left your body and she picked up the chain that was laying pathetically on the ground. the end of the bolt was thick and heavy and ellie didn’t think twice before slamming it against the lock on the metal door. 

you took deep breaths, trying to place weight on your foot with the metal around it. it stung but you pushed through it as the metal clanging against the lock got more aggressive. you winced but finally put most of your body weight on it, standing up straight only using the wall for minimal support. the pain in your legs was something unlike you had ever felt and for the first time you looked down at them. long and thin slices along your thighs and calf that burned with every move you made. you could barely remember it happening but quick flashes of the man with the scar came to your mind, his sinister laugh as he would drag the blade along your skin. you shut your eyes tight trying to dismiss it, only to open them back up when you heard the lock on the door tumble to the ground. 

“hang on,” ellie called back to you as she flung the door open. now that the door was open, the shooting and the screaming above ground was much louder. you could almost make out the words that were being yelled but you focused on other things, like the pain in your ankle as you put more weight on it. ellie vanished from sight into the exposed basement and your heart fluttered just a bit with her absence, terrified of anything to happen to her and you really would be stuck here. but she returned, a pair of bolt cutters in her hand. she didn’t bother with the metal still around her, instead immediately coming over to you and snapping them off within seconds. she removed the chain around your ankle, being careful not to hurt you but no matter how gentle she was it still seared in pain and whimpers left your mouth. “i know, i know,” she cooed to you as the air hit your raw skin after days of being encased. 

she snipped off her own while you held on to the wall. it wasn’t long before she had her arm wrapped around your shoulder, helping you walk out of the room. it was slow and painful as she guided you up the stairs, the door to the basement was shut and ellie leaned you against the wall again before she pounded at it with her shoulder. it had been locked but it was a hollow door and nothing was stopping her now. three thrusts of her shoulder and the door burst open. “lets hope they are too busy with the raiders to even notice us–” she said, picking you off the wall and bringing you back above ground. 

even in the hallway of the house, the sun was burning into your eyes. the sudden brightness being almost paralyzing and your hands went up to cover them as you trudged on. ellie sat you down on the dusty couch and you took this moment to really recharge as much as you could. you didn’t dare look down at your legs, fearing seeing them again would bring back the man with the scar so you focused on ellie. she crouched down by an open window, observing the streets before her. the fighting was deafening now, guns non stop firing their bullets and the sound of trucks screeching through the streets. ellie’s view was horrendous, dead bodies scattered the street in front of the house. blood pooling everywhere and going down into the drains as if it were water. the people who had managed to stay alive this long were running for cover anywhere they could, yelling for back up as more of their people went down. 

she could see a burning building just up the road, flames as high as she could see and the smoke was clouding the surrounding houses. more people running, more screaming, more gunfire. it was overwhelming for you after days of isolation and you buried your hands in your face. an explosion sent ellie to the floor, it sounded like it was just a few houses down and as she ducked she caught a glimpse of you on the couch. her eyes soften and she crawls to you to stay low, her hands come up to your arms covering your face. “hey, look at me,” she cooed, but you weren’t there, at least mentally. suddenly you missed the isolation and even craved it again, but you knew that was stupid. ellie called your name as softly as she could over the loudness that was your surroundings and you finally met her gaze. her hands wrapping around your bruised wrists. “we’re going home, okay? i promise.” 

all you could do was nod at her, her voice as comforting as it usually was was doing very little for you in this moment. but she sounded confident, and thats all you needed. she helped you up slowly again, you winced as you put weight on your bad foot and ellie’s grip around you tightend and she led you to the door of the house, “won’t they see us?” you asked out of breath as she opened the door. the fresh air hitting you in the face despite the stench of dead bodies filling the air, it relieved you. 

“they’re busy–” she started, helping you down the small steps to the sidewalk. your feet scraped on the wet bloody cement and ellie was already struggling to keep you up, her focus shifting from you to the people fighting for their lives. there was a small group of people to her right across the street, hiding behind the parked car in the driveway. she made eye contact with one of them before hurrying you along, scared that they would somehow recognize one of you. she thinks back to the man she killed alongside the house before she found you, how he didn’t even know you were locked away. to put herself at ease, she assumed everyone didn’t know besides a select few important people in the community, and if there was this bad of a fight going on she knew they would be stowed away for protection. 

ellie was dragging you as fast as she could, the gunfire was blowing her eardrums out, the horrific yelling of people bleeding out all around you two would haunt her for years to come but she kept moving. looking at you every so often to give her the motivation she needed. someone ran in front of the two of you, looking to find cover in the house beside you but fell as quickly to the ground and blood pooled out of them onto the road, their eyes staring blankly up into the sky. ellie looked in the direction of where the bullet would have come from, making sure to keep walking as she did but seeing no one so she quickly brought her attention back to you, helping you step over the body. 

the sounds of horses hooves could be heard over the gunfire, neighing as loudly as they could before being cut off entirely, the gashing sound of flesh filling your ears and your head turned back to where you had just come from. horses laid on the ground, peoples bodies trapped underneath gasping for air before more raiders came to finish the job. ellie was pulling at you, as you had slowed down to take a look, before you turned your head back you caught a glimpse of one of the horses who laid motionless, and despite all the blood you could see a freshly burned J on it’s leg. “ellie–” you said, not taking your eyes off the sight even though your neck was straining itself. your vision focused onto one of the last surviving men trapped underneath the limp horses and your heart leaped. you recognized him, a quiet but friendly regular at the pub in jackson. he always smiled at you, making polite small talk while waiting for his food. you remembered his smile but now as you looked at him it was hard to imagine, his one free hand that wasn’t being crushed under the weight of the horse going up to defend himself. but the raider showed no mercy and immediately fired a shot into his head and ran back down the street in the opposite direction. 

your mouth opened, a gasp coming out but ellie didn’t turn around to see it, her focus was on getting you out. “ellie, its jackson–” you uttered, your head turning back to face front. your eyes were permanently widened and you just stared at the ground as she kept pulling you along the sidewalk. “it’s not raiders.” you finished and ellie took a glance around, seeing more and more people scramble out into the streets. she witnessed a woman fall onto her back after running from  behind a small house, she tried desperately to get back up, her hands sinking into the grass for balance, barely pulling herself back off the ground before another familiar face came into view, shooting her straight through the back and her face fell into the grass, lifeless. it was eugene, he started to reload his gun before his eyes met ellie’s, and she quickly redirected her stride towards him. 

“thank god,” she mindlessly uttered beside you as her feet brought both of you towards him. she quickly realized how scary the situation you two were in if it was just raiders. how unlikely it would have been to get out of her unscathed, but seeing eugene lit a fire inside of her. 

he called your names as you got closer, meeting you both about halfway there. his eyes scanned over you, taking notice of how badly you’ve been hurt and he handed ellie a small pistol. “you guys okay?” he asked loudly, his eyes darting between the two of you and your surroundings. eugene obviously knew you weren’t okay but with all that’s going on, what else could he possibly say? he walked back slowly in between the houses and ellie helped get you there before carefully sitting you down on the grass to rest. your chest was heaving, your ankle burning like never before and all you wanted to do was sleep. ellie and eugene had crouched down, staying as close to the wall as they could get. 

“we’ve been holding them back but we didn’t expect this much resistance–” eugene was rambling. the red staining his clothes was almost identical to ellie’s and he wiped his face to remove the sweat that had built up. “you weren’t supposed to come alone.” he said sternly, looking directly into ellie’s eyes and she brushed him off. 

“joel? tommy?” she asked in a hurry, reloading the pistol in her hands that had been emptied. 

eugene watched as raiders ran down the road, passing the two houses you were hiding between without a second glance. he let out a breath of relief, “they’re here somewhere looking for you,” his eyes focused back on ellie and she kept the pistol firm in her hand, sneaking a look at you and feeling her chest tighten as she watched you struggle to catch your breath. her gaze lingered on you while she responded to eugene.  

“we have to keep moving, they wo–” ellie was cut off, a booming gunshot echoing in her ears and her head snapped to find eugene face down on the ground, a bullet going straight through his skull. instantly, ellie was up on her sore feet, her pistol pointed at the woman who stood behind eugene. the woman's gun pointed directly at you instead of ellie. 

“this is because of you–” the woman spoke with tears in her eyes, she was small, bony even. like she hadn’t had a proper meal in days. she didn’t look very threatening but ellie wasn’t taking any chances and kept her aim firm on the woman's head. she was speaking directly to you, ignoring ellie’s gun. “you brought them here!” her words were getting caught in her throat as she spoke, there was blood on her shirt and all over her hands. ellie wondered who else from jackson she had probably killed while you thought about who she might have lost today. either way, you both knew ellie wasn’t letting her walk away. 

“you people did this to yourself,” ellie’s voice was flat and stern, clicking her gun and aiming for her forehead. but the woman didn’t flinch, keeping her gun trained on you along with her gaze. 

“we just needed food, we were starving!” she thrusted her gun forward as a threat. ellie didn’t stagger, keeping her finger right above the trigger. 

“we could have traded, it didn’t have to be like this.” you spoke up from the ground, staring into the barrel of her gun. ellie slowly moved her feet to be in front of you and the woman’s eyes widened and the gun in her hands left you and pointed directly in the middle of ellie’s chest. 

“stop moving!” she shouted very obviously not in her right mind, tears streaming down her face but it’s like she didn’t even notice. her gun was trembling in her hands, compared to ellie who was as still as ever in front of you. a loud crash took the woman's attention away for a split second. ellie used the distraction in her favor and you expected her to fire her gun, but she had other plans. she dropped the gun to her side, pulling her switchblade out as quickly as she could and lunged at the woman in front of her. she tackled her to the ground, straddling over her and jammed the blade straight into her bony chest with a grunt. 

the woman cried out and thrashed her hands around ellie’s face trying to claw her way to freedom but it was too late, her blood came spilling out of her in a frenzy and it was mere seconds before her arms fell to the ground with a thud. ellie picked herself up off the woman, wiping the blood from her blade on her jeans. her eyes met yours and nothing was said about it, or about eugene laying on the ground beside you. instead, ellie helped you up from the ground knowing you had to get moving now. you didn’t protest, but you were shocked by her actions despite them being necessary and now you wondered about how she had found you, how she was and still is covered in other peoples blood head to toe. your girlfriend was capable of a lot more than you had realized. 

the two of you stayed behind the houses instead of walking the streets, feeling a little safer with the shield the houses provided. passing by each house, wailing could be heard behind some of the walls, barely noticeable with the shooting still being so prevalent on the street. ellie made a turn between houses and led you up that way, remembering this was close to the entrance to the town and she figured the people who came from jackson would be stationed there to block their exit. 

and she was right, coming out from behind the house you both could see the men on horses in the distance. ellie kept you both covered by the house, waiting for the perfect moment to make a run for it. she feared you two had gotten this far only to be shot so close to getting home. you scanned the faces at the entrance and someone you didn’t know all too well made eye contact with you. he quickly reverted his eyes to someone beside him and they both looked in your direction, they muttered words amongst themselves. there were probably about twelve of them all guarding the entrance, and ellie was desperate to find joel’s face amongst them but she couldn’t make out their faces from so far away. 

and before you could regain any strength to keep going, they threw a small canister into the middle of the road. it landed just a few yards from the two of you and erupted in a puff of smoke and heard a muffled, “GO!” from the gate ahead of you. ellie wasted no time, basically dragging you down the foggy street as you were tripping to keep up. you couldn’t see and you were choking on the fog but you knew you were close, the sound of horses becoming louder and louder with every step. 

there was a break in the fog as you reached the outside of its cloud and you could see them just ahead, their guns were trained behind the two of you just in case raiders came through the smoke. you finally felt safe, finally feeling truly relieved. the gate was about three yards away and ellie was looking harshly for joel or even tommy in the small group but she couldn’t find them. 

thats when the bomb went off, sending you backwards and landing on the ground with such force you couldn’t move. ellie fell just a few feet from you, her ears ringing with fury. the air was knocked out of her and she rolled over, gasping for any air to enter her lungs. her eyes fixed back to the gate, hoping to see the men coming to aid them but the gate itself was blown to bits. pieces of body parts falling out of the sky and onto the cement, her vision was blurry but she could see red. a lot of red it felt almost fake. she tried to push herself up with her arms to get a better look, failing and falling back down to the ground with a shaky groan. she blinked her eyes, hoping to be able to see normal again and she could make out the redness was the group of men, mangled and blown to bits along with their horses. she couldn’t process it and her head was turning to find you, her eyes getting heavier with every blink and she fought to keep them open. 

your eyes were already focused on her, but you didn’t try to move in fear of not being able to if you tried. both of your minds were fried, cloudy messes of shock. being so weak and now mind’s jumbled, you or ellie didn’t fight back when cold hands lifted you from the ground and placed you gently into an armored truck. 

——

tag list: @ohcoolcoolcool @l0v31t @frogtits1 @gold-dustwomxn

[reviewinghiccup]

DEFENDERS OF BERK | HTTYD SERIES | BREAKING DOWN HICCUP

Blog Post Series: Breaking Down Hiccup

Title: Tunnel Vision

Ep/Season: Episode 4, Season 2 (Defenders of Berk)

Premise:

Somethings brewing underneath Berk and it is up to Hiccup and gang to find out exactly what that is.

THE VALUE OF TEAM WORK

From the very trivial pursuits like giving Gobber a bath to fighting off the Screaming Death, the team has to be in it together. As girlboss as Astrid is on her own, as intelligent and savvy Hiccup can be and as strong as Stoick is, IT TAKES A (literal) VILLAGE to well... run a village.

Though the episodes called Tunnel Vision, everything about it is peripheral. The gang straggles along for answers and solutions to their water problem and then to the rogue dragon issue and then back to Gobber's bath. It is just interesting to actually see an episode where the dragon dynamic also relies heavily on teamwork.

I didn't catch this at first, but the Screaming Death and his siblings, the Whispering Deaths, are one whole unit and function as a team too. As such, the strategy to beat them can't be one-to-one combat. To be fair, Hiccup and gang always function as a team but the movies don't highlight the importance of the other members of Hiccup's unit as they should. I understand why they built it that way, and I love the movies (no complaints), I am just thankful we get to explore it in the shows.

Defenders of Berk, unlike Riders of Berk, focuses more on the life there and what they do to defend it. It has a more nuanced approach to the other riders than just solely on Hiccup and Hiccup training them. Which is an interesting shift suited to the mood of the second season.

I say that this was a pretty feisty episode and I like that it stayed within the confines of the village, because I can't get enough of the day-to-day village-viking-dragon issues. It's theatrical in one word. And the way the Screaming Death was introduced is a great built up to becoming an actual threat to Berk.

SNOTLOUT THE BUSINESS MAN

Can we also like appreciate the fact that Snotlout's pretty industrious. I mean, he's a jerk by community-living standards, but if anyone is going to capitalise on anything, its going to be Snotlout. That drop Astrid laid when she discovered Snotlout charged the villagers for water was a hilarious exchange, because let's be honest, we've all purchased bottled water. We've all been taken advantage off. I mean, why isn't water free? Anyways...

I like how despite the episode harbouring on teamwork, the individual aspects of Snotlout, Astrid and Hiccup was highlighted in this exchange. Astrid explains that Hiccup didn't mean for the people to be charged for water and Snotlout's proud that the trade was his idea because he thinks profit and Hiccup thinks people. This is just a great marked difference between leadership qualities and a capitalist.

ENEMY DRAGONS

I do not emphasise enough on Hiccup's dragon nemesis. I really should've paid more attention, but after re-watching this episode, it just clicked. The Screaming Death is a terrifying monster of a villain. I mean, I suppose he's not a villain, he's just marking his territory where he was planted. The Outcasts are villains, but the Screaming Death is a worthy adversary. It's intelligent, strong, fast and responsible. I mean, all its trying to do is protect its own and find a home, just like anyone of us would.

And that's why, I never really viewed them as Hiccup's nemesis, because they're just doing their thing in line with nature. People like Viggo or Alvin the Treacherous or Dagur purposely upset the balance of the ecosystem to get ahead in life. So it's easier to pin them as threats or enemies. But, I like that in the second season, Hiccup doesn't just have to deal with difficult people, but very difficult forces of nature and survival.

The Screaming Death would go on to have another episode I really love in the franchise and I can't wait to get to it.

THE GREAT APOLOGY - I CAN EXPLAIN

I have been away for too long. Longer than I expected to. Numerous are the reasons but procrastinator, that I am. God, I am not sure if that previous sentence English-ed well. The truth is, I needed a break. I was super gung-ho about the last number of posts and made many in response and was super hyped by them, I literally lived to produce content for this page.

But then, I kind lost the luster for it after I finished my exams and resigned from my previous posting because I was just feeling really blah. I'm quite honest with my feelings on this page, and if you've been following, you'll know that my life is in a period of a pretty great transition and that hasn't really been... transitioning. So I got stuck. Then I got sick. And am still a little under the weather. And every time I wanted to post something, I felt like I took too long a break, no one's gonna read this stuff anymore, so I stopped writing.

But I never stopped consuming HTTYD content and I was in the Jay Baruchel rabbit hole for a very long time and frankly, I missed my Tumblr interactions. (Images above placed to illustrate me, being in a hole.)

I also felt like, I wanted to improve my writing and analysis, so I was reading a lot more. Then I got stage fright, or writer's fright, and got scared you guys might find me dull and cancel me. And lived in that period of insecurity for weeks.

Well, today I got out of my head and decided, look, I did this because I love HTTYD. I never expected to have a single following. I wrote because it gave me purpose, it realigns my life. It provides structure to my day-in-day-out and I miss you guys. So, I took out my laptop, re-watched this episode, cut my stills to post this.

I'm really sorry for disappearing, I guess I was just embarrassed, but the truth is, I'm trying and with each day, it is getting easier to keep at it again. I hope.

Love you guys!!! XOXO and thanks for sticking around.

[mischieffoal]

Rosie, Frodo and Sam, Now and for Always

Here it comes: Cici’s chaotic “review” of Lord of the Rings: a Musical Tale

(Spoilers for the musical: go and see it (it's running until mid-October 2023) and then read this)

“My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell in the park.

5 stars.”

Nothing like a bracing sprint through Reading station to forge fine friendships over somehow managing to get to Newbury and the Windmill Theatre in time. We unite with our friends, get a group photo in the designated Instagram spot and, most importantly, confirm that there will be ice cream in the interval. 

It’s Mr. Bilbo’s eleventy-oneth birthday, didn’t you know? The hobbits make sure we are well informed, and someone on our picnic table is accosted by Fatty Bolger and made to play whack the rat. They all look lovely, waistcoats and sandals abounding, and some watching fauntlings are very gently introduced to hoopla. In general, if you are LARP-positive, sit at the left hand end - we were in the prime spot. Bilbo complimented my cloak and I derided my companions once again for being the only cloaked representative of our smial. Then, someone else approaches - she asks us if Mr. Bilbo said anything odd. Nothing odd at all, we reply, all a perfectly normal party. I think he’s planning something, she says. I’m worried about my spoons. I gasp. “Madam, may I ask, are you perhaps Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?” “I am!” “Madam it is an honour! I am honoured to be in your presence!” She shakes my hand. My life is complete. 

Soon enough, the actual musical begins, narrated by partying Hobbits. Now and for Always had stuck in my head just from the soundtrack on YouTube, and it’s a worthy start to the show as Mr. Bilbo tells the same old stories that he always does. Hobbits sing and dance and every one of them plays an instrument. Someone has a piccolo, someone else has a lute. Bilbo has a harmonica and an accordion. Every single Hobbit has an unspecified country accent. The Brandybucks are loud, the Proudfoots are Proudfeet and Fatty Bolger moans at me about it. R says he knows who’s playing Gollum, because he’s bald. Frodo is very sweet, but I catch Lobelia’s eye across the garden and commiserate with her at her ill fortune. Sam asks Rosie to dance, and I fall in love with them (Sam is Sri Lankan, and sounds it, and Rosie has Afro hair, and they make me very happy). Bilbo gives his speech, “magically disappears”, and 17 years pass as we all get up and troop into the theatre proper.

We’re on the side of the balcony, in a wonderful wooden interior that J guesses might have been a church at some point. We return to the action with Frodo, Sam and Rosie, greeting each other with a little two step jump that I want to do with all my friends. Frodo sends them off to the Ivy Bush, because there seems to be some kind of trade mark problem with the Green Dragon. Gandalf enters bombastically, and Frodo and Sam leave as soon as they know their task, because they know that the show is only three hours long, including an interval. 

The singing begins! Walking fast, singing and playing as they go - The Road does indeed Go On,  the centre stage rotates as they dance-walk around it. Merry and Pippin assail them in a projected cornfield, because they’re his cousins and they’re not letting him do anything dangerous alone. Frodo is very put upon. Merry plays the cello, hanging round his neck, Pippin has a fiddle, and Sam a guitar. Also, Pippin is a girl, not just played by one. Good for you, Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. She’s also terrified of trees (Merry knows a less Tree-ish route and the Old Forest is resoundingly ignored.) 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

And then! Elves! Gildor and Earendil sung with a Y! All the elves are wearing lovely blue tabards. Dark is the road ahead for Frodo, and danger follows their path. That’s nice and cheery. 

(Speaking of costume, Gandalf and Saruman have very nice robes. Saruman is played by the bald one R assures me will be playing Gollum. They have a fun little stand off across the rotating stage, and Saruman isn’t hiding any of his schemes - army included. Uh oh.)

In the Prancing Pony, K says she’s going to play “spot the Strider” but Strider is in fact very very bad at being inconspicuous, as the only one wearing a hoody. 

Strider makes himself known, and so does Pippin, and Frodo’s brilliant distraction plan is to sing a song. He’s not at all prepared for this and walks like a puppet, but the Brandybuck and Took contingent are raring to go with the Cat and the Moon, and soon Frodo is having a lovely time dancing on tables and all. Let’s pretend that Frodo’s smile will never fade.

The Ring goes on. Mari Lwyd black riders appear. Frodo looks like he’s underwater and it’s very funny. Stabbing ensues (no time for Weathertop today). Run! Run for Rivendell! (Costuming side note: Strider has a banging undercut and goatee situation going on). Arwen enters playing a harp, singing a Song of Hope in a bunch of elvish with no subtitles. Tolkien would approve. “The weary traveller returning… home.” It’s Strider, and we learn that this is the first time he’s returned since disappearing to be a ranger. He’s grown a lot, Arwen says. Strider mumbles something about not wanting any bigger destiny than her. Then Frodo wakes up and it turns out they’ve been having this lovely romantic discussion is his hospital wing. Ah, good, says Frodo, we successfully completed our adventure! Merry is very excited at the amount of books and maps, also did you know that Arwen is a half-elf, technically, and did you see the way she looked at Aragorn, and did you know that she’s thousands of years older than him? 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

The council is called, Saruman the bald is also playing Elrond the bald, and is generally an old wise man. All of the elves are obsessed with hand gestures, and their hands are never below their waists. Everyone has so many problems, but Boromir (with another very cool undercut) wastes no time telling everyone Gondor has it worst. The steward is asleep, you say? And you had a dream and followed it here? But the sword that was broken is as lost as the One Ring. (Boromir has great dramatic timing.) Frodo will take the Ring to Mordor, though he don’t know the way. Gimli will go with him, and so will Legolas and Gandalf and Strider. (The Elf and Dwarf are Iranian and Black, and it really stands out amongst the otherwise white Men - I like it a lot). Strider asks Boromir nicely and Boromir says fine, he’ll come too. The fellowship of the ring! A rousing ensemble number with Earendil with a Y! Boromir is playing the trombone and singing at the same time and it’s the best!

Saruman learns of the Fellowship from his useless gas-mask orc minions. He deals with it himself - with menacing flute music. He flutes up a storm on Caradhras, and the Fellowship must go through Moria. Gimli reverently takes a guitar, and sings them a song of his people, as the fellowship and the audience have a chance for a rest. Then drums start in the deep, a balrog is come, and Gandalf is gone. They must continue - to Lothlorien. That horn player is a different elf now, you can tell because their tabard is gold this time!

They arrive blindfolded as Legolas waxes lyrical about the elves of the golden wood, and it turns out he’s not in love with Galadriel he’s just really patriotic. Galadriel tells Frodo they will both share a great loss, and also sings a power ballad. 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Everything falls apart after Lorien, as we all know. Boromir dances with the hobbits before the orcs get him - Strider appears seconds too late, and Boromir tells him he’s failed, the Fellowship and his people. Strider shows him his broken sword (he’ll show you his if you show him yours) and finally claims his birthright. Boromir begs him to save “our people” and Aragorn really can’t deal with that, especially when Boromir dies in his arms. Aragorn is the best actor in all of this and it’s mainly in degrees of how much he cannot deal with this. The three hunters reunite, honour Boromir, and finally pick themselves up for the road ahead - Aragorn can see the hobbits’ footprints…

In the interval we theorise on how they’re going to fit two whole books into a second act shorter than the first one. Are they just going to cut the entirety of Rohan? That’s the bit of the book I can never understand. The ice cream is very nice.

As the lights go up, Sam races after Frodo and berates his idiot upper-class master who thought he could do anything without him. They set out on their long journey, and from the other side of the stage, Pippin and Merry come charging in. They’ve already escaped from the orcs, as we really don’t have time for that. Pippin is confronted with her fear of trees. Entish is a very musical language which was beautiful to experience, and I think a far better rendition of trees talking than any realism could give. Musicians stood around the auditorium and plucked and strummed their discussion (Gimli was behind us drumming the plumbing). 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Saruman, meanwhile, directs a cool break dance number from the orcs. They’re going to crush Minas Tirith, and then Sauron will surely think Saruman is an ally, a massive victory for the Light.

The rest of the cliffhangers from act one get resolved in the next ten minutes. The three hunters can tell from the footprints that the hobbits are safe, so they race the breakdancing orcs to Minas Tirith. (No Rohan, I whisper to K). Aragorn demands an entrance to see the Steward (played by Bilbo, this company has one old wise man and one old father figure). The Steward is under Saruman’s spell! They call him Denethor but he’s serving Theoden’s role, with considerably less drama as it only takes Aragorn revealing himself as King to wake him up from the curse. 

They agree to fight together to defeat Saruman! It’s another ensemble song and dance! Gandalf the White returns, and doesn’t come alone! The trees are marching! And Boromir’s actor is playing the trombone behind Denethor as he fights to defend their people, and that made me very emotional. 

It’s Gollum time. Nearly naked bald man with full body dirt makeup scrambles around theatre and balcony, more news at 7. R seems unable to comprehend a theatre company having two bald men in it. This actor was so physical, my director brain was terrified of the risk assessments that must have been required for him to run along the balcony barrier. 

Victory at the Pelennor Fields! TheoDenethor is slain, but the free peoples have won. They ride to Isengard. Saruman enters, and in a very dramatic and tense moment, I thought he greeted them with “Sup”. (Sadly it was actually “So”). Gandalf is sure that this will not be the end of Saruman’s mischief…  

Frodo and Sam (and Gollum) are carrying on, but it’s hard going. They reminisce on the stories they used to listen to, and Sam gets out his guitar as they wonder what kind of story they’re in. Sam sings to Frodo, a reprise of Now and for Always from Mr. Bilbo, and his master tiredly joins in. He hasn’t smiled for days. “Tell us a story, of Frodo and the Ring”. Sam falls asleep, and it’s Frodo turn to sing about him - “no finer friend, now and for always”. Frodo doesn’t quite manage to finish the chorus before he falls asleep beside his Sam - but Gollum takes over in a horrifying corruption of their duet. It took me a while to realise it, but this Gollum’s voice reminds me of Voldemort from A Very Potter Musical - not at all a bad thing, but a specific niche of “very creepy and also pathetic”. 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Aragorn is crowned, and receives the reforged sword. Together, the representatives of the free peoples plan to storm the Black Gates, in a hopeless battle - for Frodo. Smeagol/Gollum finally decides to lead them to Shelob, and Frodo trusts him. “Well,” Sam says, “let’s walk into Mordor.” Cackles from very small pockets of the audience.

Shelob is a REALLY COOL PUPPET. Sam manages to stab her with the LED Sting as he is seconds away from his doom. Galadriel empowers them with ballads from afar, but Frodo can barely walk. Sam takes the ring to try and relieve his burden, and Frodo doesn’t even notice. Gollum returns and swears he knew nothing about the giant spider, what giant spider? She wasn’t there last week! 

Aragorn, in the B-plot of the musical (we realised afterwards that in the books, destroying the Ring and saving the world is the B-plot), gives a rousing speech to get everyone gearing up for a battle they’re all going to lose. Arwen (I think, or is it Galadriel, I’m writing this the day after and I’ve slightly lost the plot) calls to Aragorn and starts off the ensemble number "out of grief, joy".

Meanwhile, tension is rising in the Frodo-Sam-Gollum-Smeagol polycule. Everything will change, when they destroy the ring. “The elves, Sam, they’ll disappear - all of the magic will be gone out of the world. But if I take the ring!” No one can resist the ring. Gollum and Frodo speak and move as one as they condemn Sam as a traitor and a thief. At some point in all of this Frodo gets the Ring back, Sam runs away, Gollum attacks Frodo, Sam protects him, and Frodo wakes up enough to cast Gollum out instead. I’m very tired and can’t remember when this all happens, but it was all very emotional. 

The free peoples fight, and they all dance and stand so differently you can tell which peoples they all are even without the height differences. Legolas shoots from on high, Gimli is rooted to the ground with wheeling axes, Aragorn just stabs so many orcs. Merry has his cello and uses the bow to attack, and Pippin has her accordion. We love Pippin. She’s here for moral support.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Sam and Frodo reach the top of Mount Doom and wrench open the backdrop doors. Sam can’t take another step and collapses behind Frodo as he tries once more to take it for himself - before Gollum appears. Gollum’s fall was beautiful and slow - he’s caught by black clad actors on a darkened stage and they gently let him down into the fire. And then it’s done. 

The ensemble sings as Gandalf the White comes to save the two hobbits, and they reunite with their friends as Aragorn bows to the Shirefolk (and holds Frodo’s head so close that he re-awakened my inner Frodo/Aragorn shipper). Gandalf inexplicably says he’s off to have a chat with Tom Bombadil, who we had been ignoring, but that he’ll see Frodo again.

The hobbits return to the Shire, and Lobelia tells us Saruman has been there. We all have to work together to restore the Shire, including the audience - up you get, get outside and get LARPing again. We help the hobbits restore the battered garden to its former glory, and Rosie and Sam are married! Frodo never can return to the cheer he had at the beginning of this adventure. The actor had literally added eye bag makeup, I winced in sympathy when I saw him. Gandalf and the many elves of Middle Earth reach the Shire. They are going into the West. Frodo gives Sam the book in which to write their story. The hobbits do a very sad little dance jump greeting and Frodo hugs Sam tight, before he goes on his way towards the sails of the Grey Havens. 

(Photo Watermill Theatre)

Rapturous applause! Everybody’s back on stage for a rousing final Cat and the Moon! Don’t worry about Frodo’s depression, we’ve got to sing a musical number for us all to go home to! My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell on my way through the park. 

5 stars.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Do you have a headcanon list for the rest of the team's lynx flavors! Leather and Cookies can't be to the taste of all of them!

Let’s be real, nonny – of course I don’t. I mean, who has that? Really, who?

Well, yeah, okay, I do, but only because you asked and because I very randomly happen to be in Dublin* for the week and had the opportunity to stop by Boots and sniff all the Lynx stuff they had (which did not include Java or – to my great disappointment – Leather & Cookies) and take notes, which didn’t earn me any weird looks whatsoever.

The things I do for love.

Anyway. We know Jamie is a jack of all Lynx trade and that Colin favours Leather & Cookies. As for (an non exhaustive list of) the rest…

Isaac – our captain of righteous rage and impeccable taste could never choose anything but Africa, advertised (however misguidedly) as the G.O.A.T of scents. There’s sweetness and spice and fresheness reminiscent of good gin hovering over a woody base – it’s not outrageous by any means, but it’s not boring either: nuanced and reasonably mature, it’s a scent worthy of the footballer with the most fashion sense of the entire team. Has enough gravitas for a captain, too, but without weighting him down.

Sam – leans into the quietly playful notes of Excite; it’s a fairly standard pour homme scent but the hints of coconut (almost edging into sweet liquorice) gives it a little twist, turning it warmer and softer than your average man deo. Perhaps it wasn’t his own choice, originally – I can see Simi gifting it to him, and Sam going no, okay, this works.

Dani – would pull off all the muskier and spicer scents so beautifully but is ultimately (and perhaps unfortunately) attracted to the bright fruit of Epic Fresh. It’s vivacious and sweet and unapologetic about being happy and unrefined; carefree, like Dani when jogging onto the pitch.

Jan – has decent taste but does not care to spend too much time thinking about his deodorant; he selects the simple but not basic fruit and wood combination of Black, and sticks with it. It’s a good enough choice; it’ll do and offend no one (and if it does, Jan Maas will not give a fuck because he has more important things to worry about).

Bumbercatch – goes for the sickly sweet, bright pink and unpleasantly chemical Recharge only to confuse his enemies. “What enemies,” you might ask, but our man Bumber simply gives you A Look and does not answer.

Zorro – just likes chocolate, okay? He’s in tune with his emotions and desires and wearing Dark Temptation makes him feel good. We should none of us begrudge him that.

Richard – spits at your Lynx and your hamster of a mother and elderberry-smelling father. His deodorant is expensive and French and rather discreet because he doesn’t want chemical smells to overpower the sublime taste of wine and also there’s something primally attractive about the natural human musk and why would you ever want to drown that out?

Jeff Goodman – selects Icy Chill because he believes the cool menthol notes makes him seem like a tought guy. They do not.

Cockburn – is a man of few words and a gentle heart. He prefers Gold, both for the warm spiciness of its deep wood and vanilla tones, and for gold of it all. It makes him feel a little special, in a quiet sort of way. Cockburn doesn’t really need more than that (at least not from a deodorant); he knows what he’s about and what he’s worth, and if you do not? Not his problem, baby. It’s a solid, simple choice for a solid, simple man.

If I were to assign Java (unsmelled) to anyone, it'd be to Sasha Kukoč because he's my very special secret darling and is (supposedly) young enough to find 90s retro hot.

[illarian-rambling]

The Flying City? 👀

So, I think I have a post somewhere about the Flying City, but I can't find it, so rip

Basically, a thousand years ago, a coalition of humans from the Janazi Archipelago realized that living there sucked (it really did, to be fair) and decided to build an empire about it. They made some alliances, introduced runic magic to the continent of Iarl by way of enchanted weapons, and swept through the southern continental nations like wildfire.

Koptet was one of these nations in the Republic's path. It was known for its trade, not its army, so they knew there'd be no fighting back. In Janazi tradition, conquered peoples were taken as slaves, so that was the fate that awaited them. Times were desperate, however, one merchant had an idea so audacious it just might work.

Suruk Baijahreet was a human, but had lived in the Koptet city of At El Toor all his life and felt no connection to his invading kinsman. His mercantile career had been a successful one due to his use of a small fleet of delivery balloons he designed to ship local goods. These were small and slow craft, piloted by one person and powered by sorcerous wards. But with the army on the horizon, Suruk knew he had the potential to do more.

He designed a vast ship, hiring hundreds of sorcerers to power its core with magic. It was around three times the size of a galleon, with lateral wings for stability and a large hold filled with private quarters rather than cargo. It took Suruk months to get it in the air, and by the time he did, the Republic army was at At El Toor's gates. He took up as many people as he could, only ascending once the catapult fire began. It was with about 5000 people aboard that the Flying City escaped the conflict.

Quickly, knowing stability would be important, Suruk appointed several officers, and the People's Pact (their constitution, basically) was signed into law. Suruk was appointed Captain and he did a good enough job that his daughter was given the job after him. For about two hundred years, the Flying City floated above Illaros's clouds, coming down only to refill supplies. They were forgotten by the people on the surface. By the time the War of Conquest had calmed down, they'd been up there for so long that the people saw the sky as their home. Most had been born there, after all. Almost silently, they made the decision to stay aloft, rather than return to the ground.

But they didn't want to stay put either. From their vantage point, the people of the Flying City knew there were other planets out there. It took another two centuries, but in time, they expanded their home and made it space-worthy. Their first exploration into the solar system yielded something none of them expected: other people.

There are two other inhabited planets in the Illari solar wheel: Daramakt and Hal'lah. To this day, the Flying City bounces between them and Illaros, trading goods back and forth. There's been enough crossbreeding and new passengers by now that the people of the Flying City have become genetically distinct from any planet. They often have blue blood and a minor levitation ability like most people of Daramakt, crystalline horns and double-pointed ears like the Hal'lans, and a tall stature and smooth skin like many Illari. On most planets, they are a mysterious bunch, more akin to spirits than a nomadic trade society. This isn't helped by the fact that they tend to keep the fact that there are other inhabited planets to themselves. They have found prosperity in exile. To this day, a Baijahreet still sits in the captain's chair, and though their population has grown and diversified, they are still ruled by the People's Pact.

So yeah, they were refugees and now they're aliens coming down in a wooden spaceship to show off the strangest goods you've ever seen. If that description of their physical appearance sounds a little familiar, that's because Ivander’s mother was from the Flying City, though she didn't explain any of this to him before she disappeared. I'm hoping to go a little more into the worldbuilding of it all with Starbreaker, since Faalgun is from there, but until then, I hope you enjoy their story!

Thanks for the ask!

[serashalala]

Wings for a Tail || Elina x Nori

This fic is brought to you by:

@twbmccevent

Today, Elina lays on one of the wider reefs, the surface wide enough to support her weight. She lies still, facing up, and her eyes look longingly at the surface of the water where the sky rests. The girl, once a fair, now a mermaid, can’t help but feel a sort of melancholy.

She’d lost her wings, a year ago today. Elina had been counting. 

While the people of Mermaidia had been more than welcoming to their new resident, it didn’t sit right with her. She loves the tail, it’s beautiful, but she wasn’t a mermaid. She’s a fairy.

For so long, she’d longed for wings, and she’d gotten them. 

She’d lost them, though. For a tail.

While she mourns the loss of her wings, she wouldn’t change it for the world. She would always decide to sacrifice them to save Mermaidia. Or maybe that’s not quite it. Maybe it wasn’t Mermaidia on its own. 

Saving Mermaidia had been collateral, she thinks. 

Elina is a good person, but even she had some extent to her selfishness. That much of self-awareness is warranted, after having spent a year wondering what made her decide that it was worth losing her wings.

“Elina!” She hears from a distance.

She sits up, and she looks away from the blue sky to take a glance at who had called her. She sees someone just as worthy as the sky she’d lost. The fairest trade, just as beautiful as the clouds she’d owned, once upon a time, and just as wonderful as air.

Swimming towards her is Nori. 

Elina smiles back, and she waves. Nori speeds up to greet her, and she circles around Elina playfully, as if in greeting. 

This prompted Elina to giggle. Nori had been fond of skinship, since they’d grown closer. This included the playful taps of the tail, and embraces, and her head on Elina’s shoulder.

And just like now, when Nori would sink to her side, leaving little to no space between them. Elina had grown accustomed to it, had even grown to love it, even. 

“What brings you here, Nori?” Elina asks, and she can’t help but draw her eyes to the sky. Still, she’s sat up.

Nori hums. “I could ask the same to you,” She says, but she grabs Elina by the chin and tilts it down to face her. There’s a sad smile on her face. “But I already know.” Nori’s voice is soft. 

Her hand returns to her side, 

Elina feels herself mourn at the loss of it too. But that doesn’t last long when Nori rests her head against the crook of her neck. “Elina,” She starts, but before she can continue, Elina cuts her off.

“No, Nori. It’s okay. I’m okay.” She insists voice amused. “I’m okay, Nori.” She repeats.

She could tell that the mermaid wasn’t convinced. 

“I know what today is, Elina." Nori tells her, like she's sharing her grief. "If I could, I’d give you back your wings.” Nori says, and she sounds sorry. Apologetic. “I wouldn’t have you sacrifice your wings, not when that damn fruit wouldn’t have worked.” There’s a heavy sigh.

“Nori,” Elina says. She shifts her weight, pushing onto her side so that Nori is prompted to shift her position. She faces the blue haired mermaid, and she holds both of her hands. 

Elina looks down, seeing the hands in hers. Elina is not a mermaid, not when her hands are much smoother, much more different than Nori’s scaled ones. Elina doesn’t have her own scales, yet, but she can feel them growing in the longer she’s a mermaid. She feels herself entranced by the blue scales on her skin, shimmering. It almost looks like the sky. No. It does remind her of the sky.

She looks up at Nori, her blue eyes staring back at her green ones. Elina smiles, and she raises her hand towards Nori’s cheek. 

Elina feels Nori lean towards the hand, and she feels the small bouts of scales over her cheek. “I wouldn’t change anything for the world.” She says.

It was Nori, above it all. Even the sky.

[autumntouched]

Day 15 of Ode to Phoenix Pt. 2

What? Two Ode to Phoenix posts in one day? Yes indeed. Bringing this Valentine's Day fic over from AO3. In honor of Phoenix's disdain for Valentine's Day, I am posting it the day after...

Summary: It’s irrational that Natasha hates the entire month of February, but for two weeks, the bombardment of saccharine promotional emails, constant red and pink hearts and roses, and the chocolates is enough to make her want to scream or puke or both. She’d even broken up with a guy for daring to send her a bouquet on the day. Well, there were other reasons, but a gag worthy card and flowers for a stupid made up holiday for a fake, hollow, unoriginal performative symbol of love seemed like a good enough reason to end things.

Pairings: Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Warnings: PG-13 implied sex (f/m/m)

A/N: AO3 Unk365's prompt: Phoenix hates valentine's Day. She doesn't do sappy shit.

Love in the Small Things

It’s irrational that Natasha hates the entire month of February, but for two weeks, the bombardment of saccharine promotional emails, constant red and pink hearts and roses, and the chocolates is enough to make her want to scream or puke or both. She’d even broken up with a guy for daring to send her a bouquet on the day. Well, there were other reasons, but a gag worthy card and flowers for a stupid made up holiday for a fake, hollow, unoriginal performative symbol of love seemed like a good enough reason to end things.

Her disdain for Valentine’s Day makes her popular among her squad and the recipient of more gifts of alcohol than she can responsibly consume this side of thirty. She always signs up for the flight duties that day, takes any shift trades, so the guys can get home to the partners who would break up with them if they didn’t make a big deal about a bullshit holiday that turns hospitals into a November hellscape of people dropping babies left and right.  

So she doesn’t even think about what it means for her to put her name down for February 14th, until she comes into the office one morning in late January to find Bob staring forlornly at the board. 

“I forgot you hate Valentine’s Day,” he says sadly when she stops beside him, cheap coffee with powdered creamer in hand.

Natasha braces herself for the questions and comments about what made her so bitter and disdainful about love. Who hurt her like that? But she’s too pretty to hate Valentine’s Day. 

But this is Bob, who never questions any of the things most people find unfathomable about her. She doesn’t want to hold your baby? He will. She shudders at pickles? He swoops them off the plate before she notices they’re there or swaps their meals if the waiter made a mistake. She knows every line of Miss Congeniality and The Lion King by heart? He only talks through the parts she doesn’t mind. She has to see a Marvel movie on its Thursday night premiere so the internet doesn’t spoil it? He wakes up early the day tickets are released to get them seats. Well, she’s not all that alone on that one. 

She’d put their names up as soon as the schedule opened in January. Not that it’s predictable. If anything comes up, the Navy gives as much of a fuck about Valentine’s Day plans as she does. This is why Natasha loves her job. 

“I didn’t think you had plans?” Not that she’d explicitly asked but she and Bob practically share a calendar at this point and she’s pretty sure that day was open. A blush creeps up Bob’s neck and he gulps. Natasha sets her coffee down on the filing cabinets to put her hands on her hips.

“Unless these ones are recent?” she probes. “Or secret .”

“I’ve never had a reason to do anything before,” he says quietly. “It’s okay though. I’ll figure something out.” He hitches on a smile to reassure her and scurries to his desk. She’ll get more out of him later when they don’t have to worry about anyone in the squad overhearing. 

While Bob’s old squad hadn’t even bothered to come up with a call sign for him—something that still makes her angry when she thinks about it too long—Natasha’s popularity in the Black Aces immediately rubbed off on him. Unfortunately, though, that means they want to know about who he’s dating as badly as they want to know how a guy who doesn’t root for a football team has been dominating their fantasy football league. 

Natasha feels like shit. Last she’d badgered him just yesterday, Bob had been evasive and noncommittal about where things were with Fanboy. While she avoids dating because it is always only a matter of time before she gets bored or annoyed and finds a reason to blow things up, Bob’s relationship slate’s emptiness isn’t all his doing. In high school, no one wanted to date the kid people either bullied or couldn’t remember existed. He’d hidden away in art rooms sketching, painting, and sculpting the incredible art pieces that decorate his parents’ and sisters’ houses. She’d even commissioned a piece to give to her mom for her birthday. 

He’s gained a little more confidence since then but spending most of his life ignored or forgotten means he doesn’t notice people noticing him unless the Dagger squad takes it upon themselves to intervene. She, Hangman, Rooster, and Payback have spent hours on chaotic FaceTime calls figuring out what Bob’s feelings are and how to keep Fanboy’s hopes up. Most of the chaos comes from Hangman who googles every question that comes up and reads aloud the articles or subreddits he finds. Some are helpful, most are absurd. 

Natasha grabs her coffee and ducks out of the building to consult one of her co-conspirators. Shut in her car, she calls Payback.

“What up?” he answers.

“Are you alone?” It’s their code to let one another know that they want to discuss Mission FanBob SquarePants, as Hangman dubbed it. Another chaotic call of him solely contributing portmanteaus. 

“For like maybe ten minutes. Shoot.”

“Bob mentioned having a reason to celebrate Valentine’s Day,” she blurts. “Do you know anything about that?”

“Uhhhh…ohhhhhh! Oh shiiiiiit.” Payback cracks up on the other end. 

“Want to let me in on it? Because right now I have us slated to work.”

“Yo, Phoenix. You better fix that. Fanboy hasn’t said anything, but we did just get approved for leave that weekend. His request.”

This is huge! And Payback’s right. She has almost just fucked it up.

“Did he give any specifics?” she presses.

“Nah, but I assume if Bob wasn’t planning leave but has plans, Fanboy’s going there.”

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” she grumbles, banging her head against the headrest. “It makes everyone stupid and shallow and sappy.”

“You’re a guy’s dream, Phoenix. But for real, we’ve been trying to make this happen for over a year so you need to get your shit together.”

Payback’s right. This is about Bob. “Fine. Don’t say anything to Fanboy for now. I think I can get us out of it.” 

“Copy that. Gotta go. Bye.” He hangs up. 

Natasha frowns at her windshield, absently tapping her phone as she mentally puts together a list of people willing to trade with her. It’s short. Pagemaster and Sherlock. She’ll start with Sherlock. 

Sherlock’s new to the squad and, as far as she knows, single. At least he hadn’t mentioned dating anyone in the first ten minutes of their conversation, which most guys find a way to do if they’re attached. Neither Hangman nor Rooster believes that rule so she wonders if it’s just a thing guys do with women or if they don’t remember to notice. 

Natasha texts him about getting lunch before she goes back in. Sherlock responds almost immediately with a “yes.” She doesn’t envy being the newest arrival.  

Bob is waiting for her when she gets back to her desk. “Where’d you go?” 

“Period,” she lies easily. He winces sympathetically. It’s nice flying with someone who grew up around girls. 

“They just called a meeting in Building 64. Want to head over together?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”  She waits until they’re outside, among the distant bustle of airplane maintenance and refueling, to return to their earlier conversation. “You didn’t answer my question about these plans. Are they new or a secret?”

He dips his chin and slips his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want to jinx anything,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Well this guy has another thing coming if he thinks he can fuck with your heart like that.” She deliberately bumps his arm as they pass through the row of hangars. 

“He’s well aware I have a bunch of knights in shining armor ready to deliver his head on a platter if I ask,” Bob jokes. But he’s admitting that whatever is going on has some kind of foundation. That’s something new. 

“Okay, Solome.”

“What?”

“Sunday school joke. She asked for John the Baptist’s head.” 

Bob nods thoughtfully but she can tell he’s only half listening. His mouth is turned down in a frown and he’s hunching in on himself. Natasha moves in closer. Not that anyone is likely to overhear them, but she knows he wants to keep things as quiet as possible. He’s never dealt with dating and she can see that even her gentle teasing overwhelms him sometimes. 

“Look, I’m happy for you if things work out with Fanboy. But I’m your back seater on this one and I go wherever you go, okay?”

“Well,” he grimaces, “that’s kind of the problem. I don’t really know what I’m doing here. What if I mess it up?”

“Then I’m still your person because I possibly have more experience with that than getting it right,” she reassures him. “So I can say this with confidence. You’ve probably got a good thing when the other person makes it extremely hard for you to completely mess up. Might not always work, but it’s a good thing.”

Relief washes over him, and some of the lightness returns to his stride. Bob glances over at her, and she gets her own sense of relief from his adorably shy, crooked smile. “I can never tell if your relationship advice is terrible or too honest.”

Natasha tilts her head. “Me neither but I’m glad you have a healthy sense of skepticism. It’s probably for your own good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he chuckles, and she gets the urge to pull him into a hug. Sometimes when she looks over at him, she’s surprised to realize they’ve known one another for a few months shy of a year and a half instead of their whole lives. 

She has her own group chat with his sisters, shows him pictures of his nephews and nieces that he hasn’t seen yet, and knows his cousins on both sides. She is his plus one to every wedding they can make, the one he waltzes onto the floor during the couples dance or sneaks out with to drink from a flask in the car at the dry or cash bar receptions. He was the first person she told when she got the news that her grandmother died three days before she was supposed to fly home to say goodbye. Bob was holding her less than ten minutes after she sent the message. He’d forgotten to switch his shoes at the bowling alley. When they went on vacation together and she didn’t listen about trying street food, he’d sat outside the bathroom door with gatorade while she made horrific noises emptying out her stomach and intestines in both directions. 

That’s just not the kind of love you can sum up in a pink-drenched Hallmark holiday. But fuck, she better get them off the schedule. 

Sherlock is waiting for her at a table in the NEX food court. He waves as if she could miss him. The pilot looks like a freaking model with smooth brown skin, long-lashed almond shaped gold eyes, and high, sharp cheekbones. She’s watched men straight as rulers lose their stride on the treadmill when he walks into the gym. 

He gives her a nervous, dazzling white smile. That and his reserved kindness are the only hints that he didn’t walk the halls of high school as a god among mortals. “Appreciate the invite, Phoenix.” 

“Well, I have a favor to ask so maybe wait until you hear it before you thank me,” she laughs. “Lunch is on me. Pick a place yet?” 

“You good with Five Guys?” 

“Sure.” 

As they wind their way through the cramped rows of tables, he tells her, “You know, it’s funny. When I was a kid the best you could hope for in these in the states was a Sbarro or a Subway until Quiznos came along. Oh, and Baskin Robbins.” 

“You were a military kid?” she realizes. 

“My dad was in the CEC.” 

They join the Five Guys line. It’s on the earlier side so they’ve beat the rush. Otherwise, they would be waiting at least half an hour for their food. “So your dad is an engineer but you ended up a pilot?” 

His face lights up, and she starts to wonder if she made a mistake thinking he’s single. “When I was four, my best friend’s mom was a pilot. She used to take us up for her hours. Then one of the parents at our kindergarten invited–well, he was Colonel Bolden then, now he’s the former head of NASA–to speak to our class. Pretty much replaced all my Legos with planes after that and here I am.” 

“Tell me they’re paying you to make recruitment videos with a story like that.” She’s only half joking. It’s better than the dramatic video game type ads they’ve been running. 

“I’ve heard the Navy only gives out one paycheck and assumes that covers everything. But I’m all ears if you’ve got the scoop.”

“I’ll let you know when I hear,” Natasha agrees with a smile. “So, how was the PCS?” 

“Just got back from sea duty so most of my stuff was waiting in storage.” That sounds promising. No use of “our” or “we.” They place their orders then snag a table within calling distance. 

“So what’s this favor?” he wants to know, folding his hands and resting his elbows on the table. “I don’t remember that in your text.” 

“Not exactly living up to your call sign there.” 

He hangs his head. “I’m going to tell you a secret and if I hear it from anyone else, I’ll know who told our squad.” Sherlock looks up at her, waiting for her agreement.  

Curious, Natasha nods. 

Sherlock takes in a dramatic breath. “I made the mistake of stating something very obvious during a training exercise. Our instructor responded with ‘no shit, Sherlock’ over comms and that was it. I was ‘Sherlock.’ But usually I just say it’s because of how much I like the RDJ Sherlock movies.” 

She’s glad their names are called then and he gets up to grab their food so he doesn’t have to see her laugh in his face. Making a mistake in the early days of training is one of most pilots’ worst fears for that very reason–it will stick with them for the rest of their career. At least he escaped being named for his mistake. 

He grins sheepishly when he gets back, well aware she had a laugh at his expense. Parsing her fries from her burger, she lays out the favor without going into detail about why she needs it. “I know it’s a little late to ask…” she trails off. 

Sherlock chews over his grilled cheese and her offer. “What’s in it for me?” 

Natasha was expecting this. “Do you drink? I have a cabinet of expensive liquors you can choose from.” 

“And if I don’t? Drink.” 

She flashes him a smile. “That’s my offer until I know whether it’s one you’re willing to accept.” 

His eyes widen slightly, and he takes another bite of his sandwich. She didn’t grow up with a brother who became a lawyer with a corner office in San Francisco to not protect her interests in a negotiation. 

“And if I say no?” he tests. 

Natasha pretends to think through her options while she selects a fry and douses it in ketchup. “I’d probably ask why to see if it’s because you can’t or won’t.” 

“The guys warned me not to underestimate you.” 

“I think they meant in the air.” 

Sherlock’s mouth quirks. “They didn’t qualify. For a bottle of alcohol, I’ll think about it.”

Crap. She wants an answer before they head back to work. “So you do drink. Also I didn’t say how many. And I have some pretty expensive stuff.” 

“I heard you love working Valentine’s Day. Why the sudden change of plans this year?” 

“A friend asked me to help them out with some special plans, and they’re someone who doesn’t ask for a lot but is always there for me. So I want to try to be there for them.” For the most part, true. Bob doesn’t ask for a lot. Even when she’s his plus one, he insists on paying for everything no matter how much she protests. 

“Can I let you know by the end of today? I have some stuff I have to see if I can move around first.”

Inside, she lets out a little breath of relief. Not a yes, but close enough. “Definitely,” she agrees. “Thank you.” 

“Maybe wait until I’ve given you an answer before you thank me.” 

Natasha smiles at his call back. “I really appreciate you even considering it.” 

Sherlock doesn’t wait until the end of the day. He stops by her desk at three o’clock. “Four bottles, any pick and I’m in.” 

She tries not to grin too hard or fast. “Deal. Thanks!” 

“You got it, Phoenix.” He knocks his knuckles on her desk and goes back to his spot. Maybe one of those bottles she’s giving him will lead to some answers she wants about his dating life or—even better—his singledom. 

When he’s sure Sherlock is out of hearing distance, Bob swivels around and leans low over the arm of his chair. “What was that about?” he whispers. 

“I’ll tell you later,” she promises, excited to see the look on his face when she gives him the news. Catching herself having any anticipation about Valentine’s Day whatsoever, she wipes the smile off her face. The things she’s willing to do for her sweet back seater. 

Natasha’s barely through the door that night when Jake looks up from the couch. Sports Center is on, covering the lead up to the Super Bowl. “What’s this I hear? The woman whose heart is two sizes too small turning into an adorable little Valentine’s Day cupid?” 

“You’ve got your holidays mixed up, dickhead,” she retorts, kicking off her shoes and hanging up her keys and purse. “But yes, I saved Mission FanBob SquarePants and got Valentine’s Day off. As long as the Navy doesn’t fuck it up.” She glares at him. “And don’t you dare make any plans now or come up with any stupid surprises because I have a free evening.” 

“I checked. All the good restaurants are already all out of reservations anyway, my gorgeous little grinch.” She knows he’s teasing, but she’s still not happy about it. 

Jake sighs and pushes himself off the couch as she heads into the kitchen to sort out dinner. Natasha jerks the refrigerator open before she registers the smell of roasting brussels sprouts then notices the container of couscous on the counter and pot of water. 

“I was waiting until you got home to put the salmon on the grill in case you got caught up at work,” he says from the doorway. “Also picked up your favorite sauvignon blanc because I know what even thinking about that atrocious day of love does to you. I’m sorry you have to suffer the indignity of a free evening alone with me to very much not do anything romantic, unless it’s sex because…” Natasha strides over and shuts him up with a kiss on the mouth. Jake wraps his arms around her and squeezes her close. 

When she pulls back, he smooths her hair behind her ear and gives her that little smirk he keeps just for her. “Please tell me sex isn’t off the table on February 14th because everyone else is doing it.” 

“As long as it doesn’t include roses, rose petals, chocolate, anything heart shaped or pink…” she ticks off.

He laughs and kisses her forehead. “You can text me your very specific list of don’ts, Birdy, and I promise to follow every one of them.” Jake slaps her ass. “But right now let me serve you hand and foot and finish making your dinner while you recover from spreading love on the couch.” 

“I hate you,” Natasha grumbles when he releases her.

“I’ll pour you a glass of wine and hopefully you change your mind.” 

Natasha heads to their room to change out of her uniform. By the time she gets to the living room in leggings and one of Jake’s former Longhorns sweatshirts that became hers when it shrunk in the wash (he may have once let slip how much he likes the way the horns curve over her chest), he has the promised glass of wine waiting for her on the coffee table and she can smell the salmon grilling on the balcony. 

Neither of them was particularly keen to find themselves in a relationship and had insisted it was just a hookup for months until one day Jake went to get his favorite pair of sneakers from his closet and realized all the things he preferred were at her place. In the early fall, he made O-4 and now he’s waiting to hear from NPS to get his masters in Monterey. But Natasha can’t really worry about that bridge until she gets to it. And who knows, this could all be over by then. For now, she cradles her glass of wine while she admires his backside through the glass.  

He notices her posting when he slides the door open to bring the salmon in. “I’d have put on a little show if I knew you were there.” 

“You can save it for later, Bagman,” she shakes her head. “Right now, I’m hungry.” 

Jake salutes her and hurries back to the kitchen. She watches him go and lets her smile fall. His parents had invited her to spend New Year’s with them in Texas. He’d insisted that they just wanted to meet his friends, that there was no pressure to go as his girlfriend. That had led to a fight because what parents invited the person in the background of all their son’s FaceTimes to their home thinking they were just friends? But she agreed to go because she could tell it was something he really wanted. 

Sure enough, his mother started showing her all of his and his sister’s baby clothes that she’d saved for his children to have. By the time Beth Seresin pulled out his well-loved bear and a quilt his grandmother made for him, Natasha was having a full blown panic attack in the Seresin attic. She had ribbons and medals for the missions she flew in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the uranium enrichment plant mission last year, but just the hint of carrying a child nearly made her pass out. 

Jake came home to find her curled up in his bed with the family’s Rhodesian Ridgeback, Lilah, after a frantic, tearful call to Rooster and stormed off. She wishes she could forget the awful dinner that night where Jake and his dad, Gerry, barely said two words to one another while Beth kept up a constant, overly cheerful chatter at everyone that couldn’t hide how red and swollen her eyes were from crying. Natasha prayed the whole meal for the floor to open up and swallow her. 

She lets the wine ease the sharp jab of that memory. Jake has been on his best behavior since then, tripping over himself to keep her from even a thought of irritation, careful not to push too far with his teasing. No, he wouldn’t dare spring a Valentine’s Day surprise on her because he knows that might be the end of whatever this is. 

Jake’s cooking goes a long way toward putting her in a better mood and by the time they’re getting ready for bed, her heart’s grown three sizes and she’s all too happy to let him show her some very convincing suggestions for her list of do’s for her evening off. 

Natasha wakes to Jake’s voice in the darkness. “It’s three in the morning here, Fanboy. She’s asleep.” He shifts away from her and lowers his voice. “I guarantee this can wait a few hours, but I’ll tell her you called. Yeah, I know. It’s important. Yeah. Fine. Bye.”

“What does he want?” she groans. 

She feels Jake jump slightly. He turns and hands over her phone. “I don’t know. Something about Bob. I thought your phone was on sleep mode, Birdy.”  

Natasha returns it to its charging pad on her nightstand and curls back into her pillow. “He’s in my favorites,” she yawns. 

“Mmm,” he hums, settling around her again. “Take him off tomorrow.” 

“Mhmm,” she agrees, but she’s forgotten even before she falls back to sleep.

It turns out Fanboy wants her suggestions for what to do with Bob for Valentine’s Day and suddenly she remembers her promise to Jake to remove him from her favorites. It feels like she’s been duped and trapped into playing cupid. For Bob, she grits her teeth and reminds herself before promising to send Fanboy a list of things to do within a reasonable driving distance. 

Natasha looks forward to the Super Bowl providing at least some distraction from the Valentine’s Day fury, but nearly every woman who talks to her at Commander Lazarescu’s Super Bowl party wants to know about her plans. She’s glad that, for the most part, not many people outside of her squadron know that her relationship with Jake is official, if they know about it at all. Bob gets a few prompts but nowhere near what she endures. Natasha starts to avoid everyone with a stone on their left ring finger and eventually stays tucked in between Jake and Bob who gamely go to get her food and drinks so she can avoid the questions and, weirdly, concern. 

“Should I get him something?” Bob worries during one of their flights. Natasha’s glad he can’t see her scowl. “My sisters sent me some ideas but they don’t seem right.” 

“What about one of your drawings?” she offers. “That feels more personal. And there’s always a bottle of Veuve Clicquot to take the edge off your nerves.” 

“You’re better at this than you give yourself credit for, Phoenix,” he tells her. 

She just grunts. One week left until everyone regains their sanity. 

If Jake feels any type of way about doing nothing to celebrate their first Valentine’s Day together–Natasha mentally cringes at even having that thought–he doesn’t let on. Or maybe he does because he spends extra time cleaning the apartment and goes to the commissary so she doesn’t have to walk through the red and pink crepe draped aisles. When she pulls out her basket in the bathroom, she finds he’s even restocked her supply of tampons. There’s a folded sticky note on top. She opens it up and sees his scrawl:

Since you hate the color red so much thought you might need more of these . xoxo your dickhead 

She touches his hugs and kisses. There have been times that he’s half jokingly told her that he loves her. When they’re several shots deep into their own raging dance party with a disco ball light Natasha still has from a classmate’s Bat Mitzvah. When her fantasy football team outranked his or when she surprised him with trips to San Francisco to see any Texas team play the Warriors. 

Those three words she has yet to say in any meaningful way seem to make their way into all the things he does for her and puts up with from her. Natasha slams the basket away. God, she hates Valentine’s Day. 

Another wonderful thing she loves about her job. When she walks into the office on February 14th, the only sign of Valentine’s Day is a sign taped onto the door instead of a rush of flower deliveries throughout the day that her sister tells her happens at her job. “Did you wish them Happy Valentine’s Day before you left home?” 

She laughs to herself and wonders who learned the hard way. Natasha leaves the reusable bag filled with her payment to Sherlock on his desk. He gives her a thumbs up when he finds it. Bob gets quieter and quieter throughout the day, and by four, he’s given up on work and sits flipping his pen through his fingers.

“I can’t concentrate with you worrying so loud over there,” Natasha complains, looking up from the latest manual update. 

Bob goes ramrod straight. “Sorry about that.” 

She sighs and closes her reading. “Half the guys in here are still scrambling to find a florist to order flowers from. No one’s doing any work anyway. Want to go for a walk?” 

He calms down slightly after they stroll around the planes. They’re only back at their desks for another fifteen minutes before Commander Lazarescu pops his head out of his office. 

“For those of you who don’t need to stick around, why don’t you head on home and stop distracting the people trying to work?”

Usually, Natasha watches as almost everyone snatches up their briefcases or backpacks and sprints out before the commander can change his mind. It’s not until Bob puts a hand on her chair that she realizes she’s still sitting. “That’s us,” he says gently, as if he’s worried that she’ll startle. 

With a heavy sense of dread in her stomach, Natasha shoulders her backpack. She gives a small wave to Sherlock who lifts his hand in acknowledgment. 

“I’m headed home to freshen up before meeting up with Fanboy,” Bob tells her in the parking lot. “Text you later?” 

Natasha gives him a playful shove. “You better! It’s not like I’m doing anything.” 

His eyebrows shoot up, and he hacks a laugh. “According to you or according to Hangman?” 

She flips him off then throws her arms around him. “Tell Fanboy hey for me.” 

Bob’s face is scarlet when she lets go. “Yeah, will do.” He swallows and flexes his shaking hands in and out of fists. 

“Hey!” she tells him. “It’s a Valentine’s Day date, not a haunted house.” 

He lets out a slow breath but finds it in him to smile. “Says the woman who’s been acting like she got sentenced to the gallows for the last two weeks.”

“I’m making an exception for you.” Becoming more serious, she squeezes his forearm reassuringly. “It’s Fanboy. I’m pretty sure he’s just going to be really glad to see you.” 

“Thanks.” He rubs the side of his nose awkwardly. “And, I didn’t think I’d ever say this but–try not to give Hangman too hard of a time? He’s really trying.” 

Bob says it nicely, but she still feels chastised because he’s right. “I’ll let him know to thank you for my good behavior.” 

And as much as she hates with a capital ‘H’ Valentine’s Day, Natasha can’t resist calling after him to take pictures of his date. 

The apartment feels extra empty when she gets home. It will probably be at least an hour or two before Jake gets off from work. That should be enough time to run to the commissary to get the specific ingredients she needs for the King Ranch chicken casserole recipe Beth gave her and have it in the oven.

But Natasha is halfway across the living room when the bedroom door opens. So much for her surprise. “I thought you were–.” She freezes, trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. 

Because it’s not Jake who’s walking toward her in jeans and a snugly fitted, long sleeve gray shirt she picked out for him to wear instead of his hideous print shirts. 

“Bradley?”

“Yeah,” he says, lips quirked beneath his mustache. “Thought I’d surprise you.” 

And then she shrieks and launches herself at him. Rooster scoops her up easily and clutches her as they kiss, the months they’ve been apart slowly receding as she’s reminded of the taste of his mouth, the thickness of his arms, and of course, the soft tickle of his mustache. He’s trying to kiss her, hold her, and wipe her tears all at once. 

“I missed you so much,” she sobs, burying her face in his neck and gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Well, I guess we know who she loves more now,” Jake laughs as he joins them. He kisses her forehead and rubs her back as Rooster rocks her. She didn’t realize how much of her heart had been missing when Bradshaw wasn’t with them. 

“For someone who hates Valentine’s Day as much as you,” Jake starts. 

“Shut up, Jake,” she and Bradley say in unison. 

“I’m assuming you were going to change out of this?” Rooster asks, plucking her bra strap through her khaki shirt. 

She closes her eyes and soaks in the rumble of his voice in his chest. “Just hold me,” Natasha hums, hugging him even tighter. 

“Come on.” He turns around and carries her back to the bedroom. She remembers something and lifts her head, leaving her chin to rest on his shoulder. 

Jake follows them, and she meets his eyes so he knows how much this means to her. “This goes on my list of dos.”  

He beams with such relief and elation that her heart thumps so hard it feels like a kick in her chest. When they fall into bed, she makes sure to pull Jake in first while Bradley unbuttons her shirt. She massages his scalp, just above the nape of his neck, the way she knows he likes. His eyes are heavy-lidded watching her shirt fall open to reveal the dark green bra she wore knowing it’s his favorite.  

“I might not tell you enough how good you are to me,” she says barely above a whisper so it’s only for him. His gaze jumps back to her face. “But I want you to know that I see it. I know it. Every single day. Not just today.” 

Shyly, she kisses the corner of his mouth. It’s the closest she’s come to telling him that she loves him. Jake cups her face, stroking his thumb over her cheek. He stares at her intently, unwaveringly focused as he is whenever she finally gets around to opening up to him. “Don’t worry, Birdy. I get you.”  

And for a brief flash, she’s terrified of a future without these two to hold onto. Instinctively, she reaches up to grab his hand and wrist. Maybe Jake sees it or feels it too because he kisses her like he’s afraid of what will happen if he lets go. 

Natasha realizes Bradley has stilled, fingers hooked into the button above her belt while he watches them. He gives them a goofy smile when they notice him. “My two commitment phobes are so cute together.” 

She threatens to kick him in the head. 

Later, Jake disappears to the kitchen while Natasha stays curled up against Bradley with the blankets pulled haphazardly over them. He winds his legs around and through hers and from time to time drops light kisses along her bare shoulder and neck. 

“I’ve missed holding you, Sash,” he tells her. 

“Me too. How long are you here?” 

“Til Sunday. The CO needed someone to go to Washington with him, and I volunteered. Maybe do something with that Poli Sci major I spent four years on.” 

She rubs the arms wrapped tightly around her middle and tries not to think about how short that is. He’s here now and it’s more time than she was expecting just a few hours ago.

Jake returns with a bowl of grapes, complaining that Rooster is too messy of an eater to be trusted with anything else. She ducks while they tussle over the bowl before Bradley settles the fight by pulling Jake in for a kiss. These fools are making this stupid holiday bearable. 

Natasha wakes up to an empty bed and growling stomach the next morning. Beneath the mouthwatering aroma of French toast and bacon, their room is musky with the smell of sex. She takes a quick shower and opts for one of Jake’s sweatshirts. 

Her guys are in the kitchen, apparently cooking up a storm. Bradley’s whisking what looks like two cartons worth of eggs while Jake carves an entire cantaloupe for a platter already lined with strawberries. There’s a half cut loaf of challah for the French toast and what looks like waffle or pancake mix. 

“Did I miss something?” she asks.

Jake looks up and grins. “We have about thirty minutes to enjoy the fact you’re not wearing underwear before it gets awkward.”

“Bob and Fanboy are coming over for breakfast,” Bradley clarifies.

“Oh!” She should have guessed. “Can I help?” 

Bradley glances at Jake. “Not in that. He’s already distracted. We’ve got this while you get dressed.” 

Natasha giggles at Jake’s scowl but heeds Bradley’s request. She dries her hair and returns in jeans and a crew neck sweater just as the doorbell rings. 

“I got it!” she calls. 

“Phoenix!” Fanboy raises the bottles of champagne he’s holding in each hand when she opens the door. She immediately looks to his neck for any lovebites, but there’s no hint there of last night went for him and Bob who cradles two more bottles of champagne. “So were you surprised?” Fanboy asks, giving her a one armed hug on his way in. 

“Bob told me you were coming,” she laughs. “Many times.” Bob goes bright red and narrows his eyes at her. “But it’s good to see you.

Fanboy bumps her arm with his elbow. “No, I meant about Rooster.” 

“Ohhh. I–.” 

But Rooster and Jake pop out of the kitchen then and there’s a commotion while they all say hello and Fanboy presents them with the bottles of champagne. Fanboy knew Rooster was coming? 

“Let me get those so you can make yourself at home,” Jake offers, collecting the alcohol from Fanboy and Bob. He ushers everyone toward the living room while Rooster and Fanboy clap one another on the shoulder. 

Bob lingers by her in the entryway. “Did you know Rooster was coming?” she checks. 

He rubs the sides of his thighs, which means he’s thinking of a way to tell the truth without lying. “I might have heard something. But I guess I, uh, was a little distracted.” 

The doorbell rings again. “Can you get that, Birdy?” Hangman calls. 

“I should help with the mimosas.” Bob hurries after everyone else 

Becoming increasingly suspicious, Natasha opens the door and she’s less surprised than she should be to see Payback on her doorstep. 

“Are you serious?” she demands. 

“Hey, Phoenix.” He hugs her then steps inside and Natasha’s mouth falls open. 

“Holy shit motherfucker!” The din behind her goes quiet. 

Mel, Payback’s very much pregnant fiancée, looks torn between being annoyed and amused. “I guess we should have given you a heads up,” she says heavily, tucking her long locs behind her ear. Even pregnant, she’s effortlessly beautiful and stylish in bold purple lipstick, an oversized marigold cardigan, and a flowing cream dress that bring out the rich darkness of her skin. 

“Heads up about–you motherfucker,” crows Jake. “Congratulations!” 

“What’s happening?” Rooster yells from the kitchen while Mel embraces Natasha around her baby bump and the others offer their congratulations. 

“Looks like Payback’s been busy, Pecan,” Jake calls back. Natasha elbows him in the stomach under the guise of making space for Mel to come in. He grunts and wraps his arms around her from behind. 

“When’s Maverick getting here?” she guesses. 

He kisses her neck. “They hit traffic but should be here soon. Apparently with Amelia’s boyfriend.” She looks back at him with a raised brow and he lifts his own and gives her a wicked smile. Jake kisses her on the mouth. “Bradley’s going to be stressed now that almost everyone’s here so I better get back to work. Can you make sure everyone behaves?” 

“As long as you’re busy, I don’t have to worry about that.” 

“That’s my girl,” he grins. He pats her butt as they part ways, and she notices Payback watching. 

“That looked cozy,” he leads with an impish smirk. 

“Considering how cozy it looks like you got, I think you ought to spare me,” she warns amiably. “And when were you going to say something?” 

“We just did, didn’t we?” He becomes more serious. “It was a bit of a rough start so we figured it was better to wait.” 

Natasha makes a note to check in with him later when Fanboy isn’t swooping in with a wine glass of mimosa. “Glad we got to find out in person,” she says for now. 

Payback nods appreciatively. 

Mel is already badgering Fanboy about his evening with Bob, and since Bob slipped away before she could ask, Natasha happily teams up with her to get the details from the two of them. Fanboy, normally the more talkative of the two, remains as mum as her back seater beyond the vague details of dinner on the coast. 

“We went stargazing,” Bob finally offers shyly after Natasha warns him that she won’t stop Jake from extracting the information by any obnoxious means necessary if he holds out on her. Fanboy blushes and looks down into his drink. That might not sound like an eventful date to anyone who doesn’t know that he can read the night sky like it’s an epic adventure, his knowledge of the constellations and the myths and folklore that inspired their names is practically encyclopedic. Tentatively, Bob rubs Fanboy’s shoulder and the bashful look they share melts Natasha’s Valentine’s Day hardened heart. A little. 

She’s glad now that she suggested Bob draw something for him so they each had a personal gift to exchange. 

“I hear California’s a perfect place for that,” Mel says, as if she did her own share of orchestrating the night. 

“Very perfect,” Bob agrees happily and so sweetly that Natasha doesn’t have the heart to embarrass him with questions about how or where the night ended. 

They’re all helping to set out breakfast on the table when Maverick arrives with Penny, Amelia, and her boyfriend, Devin, who manages not to cringe at walking into a room full of adults. He hangs back on the edge of the enthusiastic circle Maverick, Penny, and Amelia form around Rooster and then Payback and Mel. 

Maverick shakes everyone’s hands but reserves hugs for her and Jake. “Were you surprised?” he asks her, eyes dancing. 

Natasha wrinkles her nose. “Did everyone know except me?” 

“I can only speak for myself,” he says, patting her on the shoulder, but it’s clear he knows more than he’s letting on. 

“Please eat before the food gets cold!” Jake announces. “Rooster came all this way to wake up early and feed you all.” 

Everyone crowds around, complimenting him on how delicious everything looks while Jake brags about the fruit he sliced and teasingly apologizes for the lack of red, pink, and hearts because we all know how much Phoenix hates Valentine’s Day. Fortunately, Bradley knocks him upside the head and stuffs a piece of bacon in his mouth to shut him up. 

She knows she should share him, but Natasha selfishly enjoys cuddling up under Bradley’s arm on the sofa while they eat. Maverick lounges on the other side of Bradley, peppering him with questions about his deployment and making him wince at a video of Amelia learning to drive his Bronco. Payback fills one of the living room chairs with his long legs stretched out in front of him and Fanboy and Bob squeeze into the other, shyly bumping arms while they eat and trying to pretend that they’re not looking at one another as much as they are. Across the room, Amelia and Devin crowd onto Rooster’s piano bench but are careful to leave some space between them, close to Penny and Mel who sit at a clear corner of the table talking animatedly. Jake bounces around, playing host but also claiming the center of attention. Sometimes he settles at Rooster’s feet, only to bounce up again. The room feels so full, in the best way possible, with their friends who have come from near and far to be together for just a few days. 

Some time after breakfast, Maverick proposes a game of dogfight football. Mel insists on playing even though Payback complains it’s not fair because no one’s going to tackle the pregnant woman. Rather than take her down though, Jake eventually picks her up and runs her and the ball in the opposite direction. 

“How’d you do it?” Natasha asks that night after the house has cleared. Their friends’ presence lingers in the warmth of the air, their chatter echoes in her ears. 

“It was mostly Jake’s idea,” Bradley tells her while she unloads the dishwasher, once again wearing only Jake’s sweatshirt now that it doesn’t matter whether they get distracted. “I just wanted to surprise you and he did the rest.” 

Jake’s making their bed even though she argued they were going to change the sheets tomorrow anyway. 

“What was the rest?” 

Bradley takes a platter from her and reaches over her to put it on the shelf beyond her arm span, pressing their bodies together. “Convincing you to take Valentine’s Day off since you were so adamant about him not being allowed to do anything. We knew Bob was our best bet, but it was Payback’s idea to kill two birds with one stone and suggest that Fanboy make Valentine’s Day plans here.”

He continues to help her put away the dishes. “Jake invited Payback and Mel to come out since he had leave anyway and then invited Maverick. Once you switched shifts, it was smooth sailing from there.” 

“Was Jake upset that I wouldn’t let him plan anything?” 

Bradley looks over at her, surprised. “Well he planned something, didn’t he?” 

“I mean before you knew you were coming home?”

He stacks plates on the counter while he thinks about his answer. “I think he wanted something special, yes. But that’s our dickhead, he likes to put on a show.”

There’s a heavy weight in Natasha’s stomach while they finish cleaning up the kitchen. Jake did so much to make Bradley’s visit special for her and because she’s been so intractable about acknowledging a certain day, he’s had to do it all by himself. 

The only things he got in return were a bunch of threats and worry that even for such a wonderful surprise, she’d be angry with him. Natasha can’t stand Valentine’s Day but she also can’t stand the thought of Jake worrying that one more thing he wants could make everything fall apart. 

Because he and Bradley never bring up the want they agreed not to ask her to give them, if this lasts that long. It’s what led to Jake’s argument with his parents in Texas and why the two of them spent all afternoon hovering over Mel jockeying for the role of favorite uncle. They wouldn’t give Amelia a hard time about dating but, like the dads they wanted to be, they did make a point of pulling her aside within listening distance of Devin to be sure he knew they would know if he didn’t respect her. 

“This is not what I expected to find when it got quiet in here,” Jake drawls as he strolls into the kitchen. He massages Bradley’s shoulders and places a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Or were you two desperately waiting for me?”

“We were just talking,” Bradley says easily. 

Natasha tugs the cuffs of his sweater over her fists. “I’m sorry I made such a big deal about Valentine’s Day, Jake.” 

Jake looks taken aback. His hands drop from Bradley’s shoulder, and he gives him a sharp look. “I don’t mind that you hate it. I mean, yes, people gave me shit for not having plans but that’s their problem, not ours.”

“But we—I didn’t do anything for you .” 

A soft blush spreads across his cheeks, and he takes out his phone. After a few taps, the strum of her ukulele and the notes of Rooster’s piano fill the kitchen. It’s the cover of Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” that they recorded for his birthday. “It’s my most played song,” he admits. “Whenever I’m missing one or both of you or sometimes just because.”

Jake teased them for weeks after they sent it to him, so much so that Natasha started to feel embarrassed she’d done something so sappy. Knowing that it means so much to him makes her want to give him the finger for giving them such a hard time and elated that they came up with something he holds onto so dearly. 

Bradley touches her shoulder. “We like that you get more excited about all the small things we do for you every day, that you text your mom to tell her that Jake vacuumed or put your clothes away or that I called right when you needed me.”

“Or that the easiest way to make your day is to iron your uniform,” Jake adds. “You’d think we’d bought you every diamond in the world.” 

Feeling self-conscious, Natasha hugs herself. Their earnest expressions while they try to sooth her without saying the words they know scare her make her heart swell large enough to make her dizzy. Somewhere along the way, maybe while she watched her parents’ marriage fall apart, cliché as that sounds, she stopped believing people mean the things they say about love. Or maybe it was high school when guys wanted to date her until they found out she went to community college for her math and science courses. It was possibly something wrong with her, she thought sometimes, when her college girlfriend broke up with her for refusing to put anyone before her career. All the grand gestures and words could add up to nothing but hollow promises, regrets, distance, and heartbreak. 

She knows that months ago, Jake and Bradley told one another they love each other. Jake, although he pretends not to, needs the affirmation and Bradley doesn’t have many people to say it to him. In all of this, they have made sure to creep along at her own pace. 

It’s not on Valentine’s Day that she feels particularly loved or loving, but in these mundane, normal moments when it occurs to her that Bradley and Jake are the only two people she might not mind giving up space to be on her own for. 

Her heart is in her throat when she realizes what she is about to do. 

Seeing her expression, Jake steps toward her and opens his arms. “Hey, it’s okay, Sash.” 

“I love you,” she blurts. “Both of you, I guess. I love both of you.” 

Bradley chokes. 

“Did you say what I think you did?” Jake asks, mouth hung wide open in disbelief. 

She rushes to get Bradley a glass of water because Jake is too stunned to move or help. Then Jake lets out a whoop and tries to hug her and clap Bradley on the back at the same time, which only leads to her spilling half the water down their shirts while Bradley spirals into a laughing coughing fit. By the time he can breathe again, she’s crushed into the circle of their arms with kisses raining down on her like her plane caught in a hailstorm. 

“I love you, Natasha Elena Trace,” Jake says into her hair. Turning his cheek to the top of her head, he adds, “And you, too, Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw. Just to make it official.”

“I know, Honkytonk. And it feels good to finally hear you say it, Sash,” Bradley admits. “I love you.” 

Jake walks around for the rest of the night like an incandescent light bulb. Every time he looks at her, his face melts into a dopey, dazed smile.

In the morning, they’ll drive Rooster to Point Mugu to meet his CO but Natasha already feels the hole he’ll leave behind when he’s gone. Huddled together on the sofa going through Bradley’s pictures of his deployment in the Pacific and Indian Ocean, they put off going to bed until Jake breaks and kisses Bradley like he’ll lose him forever. Bradley clings to him, and Natasha regrets not spending every moment of his brief leave telling them how much she loves them. 

The playfulness of their lovemaking the night before is gone, replaced with deep longing and a fierce determination to wring everything they can from the time they’ve been granted. Over Bradley’s shoulder, Natasha watches Jake’s composure shatter with ecstasy and grief and her chest explodes knowing that he shows her the many layers he keeps so carefully guarded from everyone else. 

In the darkness, Natasha runs her fingers through Bradley’s waves. Jake sprawls across him, head cradled to his chest. They murmur promises that she can’t resist tying her hopes to until they fall asleep in one another’s arms. 

Everyone comes by again for one final parting in the morning. Payback and Mel promise them they’ll be among the first to know when she goes into labor. Natasha tells a blushing Fanboy that he better treat Bob well or she’ll fly to Virginia herself to set him straight, prompting Fanboy to ask Payback whose side he’s on because he didn’t threaten to do the same thing to Bob for him.   

Once Payback, Mel, Fanboy, and Bob head off to San Francisco, Bradley, Jake, and Natasha have to say their real goodbyes. H e kisses Jake first. “Thanks for making this the best weekend, Honkytonk. Love you.” 

“Love you too, Pecan. Keep giving ‘em hell,” Jake says thickly. He clears his throat as he steps back and busies himself with Bradley’s suitcase. 

“Sash?” Bradley opens his arms to her and she flings herself into them. 

“For the record,” she says hoarsely, trying not to cry, “I still hate Valentine’s Day, but I’m happy you came, Roo.” 

“I love you, sweetheart.” The words envelop her like a hug she’ll be able to carry with her long after the shape of him fades from her arms. 

“I love you back.” He lifts her chin and kisses her, and when he finally pulls away she rises onto her toes to hold him as long as possible. 

“I love hearing you say it.” Bradley kisses her on the forehead. 

Outside, Maverick, Penny, Amelia, and Devin are waiting for them. Maverick drives Natasha’s SUV with Amelia up front so that Natasha, Bradley, and Jake can sit in the backseat together. And even though it’s a squeeze and slightly uncomfortable, the ride still goes by too fast. 

All three of them put on their sunglasses when they climb out of the car at the Mugu airstrip. They give Bradley one last round of hugs before his CO arrives. 

“Didn’t realize you had such an entourage, Rooster,” Captain Brewer calls as he approaches. “Good to see you, Maverick.”

Maverick shakes his hand. “Pacman.” He introduces Penny, Amelia, and Devin. 

Pacman seems unsurprised to see Natasha and Jake there but if he has any thoughts or suspicions, he keeps them to himself. He congratulates Jake on his promotion then gives Bradley five minutes to board. There’s another rush of hugs and then Bradley is hurrying away. 

Jake and Natasha say their goodbyes to Maverick, Penny, Amelia, and Devin and promise to visit when they can get away. Finally, it’s just the two of them waiting against the car until Rooster takes off and the plane climbs beyond their sight.

“Ready?” Jake asks. 

“No,” she admits. It’s weird but as wonderful as it is to see Bradley for a few days, the reminder of what she’s missing aches more now than it has in any of the months since she’d last seen him. At least she still has Jake, she reminds herself. Bradley is all on his own. 

The tears come when she gets behind the wheel, and Jake rubs her back until the sobs fade sniffles. “Here,” he reaches for something on the door and hands her a thin square of red tissue paper. “It’s from Bob,” he protests when she gives him a wet glare. 

It’s a watercolor of the three of them on a sofa. Jake kisses a blushing Bradley’s cheek while reaching for her on one end while an angry Natasha sits with her arms and legs crossed on the other. There are little hearts above the kiss and Natasha’s head. Across the bottom he simply wrote, Valentine’s Day. 

She laughs and shows it to Jake. He takes the painting, holding it carefully as if it’s made of glass. “Will you let me frame this?” 

“Of course,” Natasha agrees, starting the car and adjusting the seat. She looks over at him and her heart double beats at the soft expression on his face while he stares at Bob’s artwork. “It’s a good reminder.” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Birdy.” 

“Fuck you. No.” 

He grins. “What if I try again next year?” 

“I’ll hate it then too.” 

“Okay. What if I call it the anniversary of you saying I love you. Can I celebrate that ?” 

“I’ll think about it,” she says finally, slowing for a red light. Natasha looks over at him and holds up a finger. “But if–and it’s no guarantee–I say yes, there are no flowers, no hearts, no chocolate, no pink, no red, no diamonds, no candlelight dinners, no couples massages, nothing sappy and stupid and if you ever fucking propose on Valentine’s Day I will say no.” 

He nods brightly, and it’s both annoying and endearing how hard it is to deter him. “You have a whole year to work on your list of don’ts, and I’ll follow every one of them. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” Jake’s mouth turns up in a mischievous grin. “But also, you’ve thought about us proposing?” 

“No!” Natasha shouts, pressing the accelerator a little too hard on the light switching to green. But she has, even if she’s not ready to admit that . “It was–hypothetical.” 

“Okay,” he lets it go and carefully rewraps Bob’s gift. 

Natasha hates Valentine’s Day but for Jake and Bradley, she’d be willing to go through so much worse.

Tag list: @melodiousoblivionao3

Ode to Phoenix Masterlist

[ntls-24722]

i HATE this bitch. but i LOVE HER. I DESPISE THIS BITCH

ok. LISTEN. dont let these cute pics fool you. she's fucked up. but i love her as a character

Clavier is pretty much a bastardization of my Glamrock DJMM concept where he just leaves the plex on account of the fact he's no longer limited to the fact he's like 2 stories tall. There's two timelines of how this plays out that lead to radically different DJMMs, Creek and Clavier. (btw i made them both bigender so i'll be switching up pronouns a lot. so watch out lmao)

Creek, instead of gradually assimilating into society like Clavier, befriended all the birds in a 10 mile radius and used her massive bird army to force the local government into letting her be a person. I adore Creek.

Clavier, on the other hand, had a very slow transition into society which also led to her trying to be as human as she can with modifications to her model, like her face being covered in silicone and having actual eyes instead of black voids of nothingness (this, storywise, comes off a lot like him transitioning, which personally hits home). They also have a lot of... like... dysphoria? Over not being human? Which, originally, mostly led to her "transition" but like, this also lead to... extreme measures. Which leads me to why i want to throw her down the stairs 😳

So, Clavier is aware that there is nothing for her after death since she's powered off and has faced the robot equivalent of death. So she's just scared shitless of that. But he believes that humans do have an afterlife (and, iirc, in fnaf lore, he's right?) that he is unable to access due to not having a soul, which is very convoluting for him as someone who is. very religious.

I forgot to mention but in both timelines, they have a gf who they love the absolute shit out of named Bea. They're so disgustingly in love and its really sweet and Clavier ruins it by being... Clavier. Because she learns about Afton's work and realizes that she could take a soul for herself and hopefully get an afterlife of some kind. (by the way, i feel like its worthy to note that she isn't scared of hell. she doesn't mind suffering for eternity as long as she is somewhere.)

And because he fears that he can't take any old soul, it might possess him and take him over - if he wanted to assimilate with a soul he wants it to be a good one, and he immediately and begrudgingly targets Bea, since he believes she has the greatest soul around.

So he writes down just about EVERYTHING about Bea. Cataloguing hypotheticals, her dreams, everything she loved, and for years he works and works to make them come true so that she wouldn't have regrets when she died. When he feels like it's been enough, he takes her out on one last date and kills her with a shot of pentobarbitol, so she'd die painlessly just as she hoped.

As she withers in his arms she admits that if he had waited just a little longer, she would've proposed to him that night and Clavier is left with the crushing realization of just what he had done and his empty victory of having her soul and heart, torn from her and stuffed inside himself.

get fucked clavier, L bozo

Anyways other than creepy christian DJMM i have Comet as a Bigass House

Usually for versions of Comet I keep him, like, organic? Idk what I was doing here? But i made him into a giant sentient spider house and its also a redesign from this, which changed almost nothing about him.

In the giant list of music man aus he's known as the solarpunk one since in the loosely developed world that he's a part of, its a cool solarpunk future and everyone actually grows much of their own food. The world is back to a massive trading community, it's great

While not a music man, these guys are part of SOS - The hemonymphs, shapeshifting bloodsuckers who all have daddy issues.

They were SUPPOSED to be mosquito people (they still are) but as i developed them they became these weird teethbirds. as weird as they look i actually really love these guys i think they're so silly

Weird bit of their lore, but they're kind of not a species??? They're all siblings since they all almost exclusively come from THIS creepy asshole: Dr. Hemlock, a mistake from the facility (the Oort Cloud) that created Comet - He's a psycho who goes around decapitating people and sucking the soul out of em, and began asexually reproducing to do the same thing to his kids or to use them as pawns. zoinks‼️

[linofy]

Note-Worthy

Mike’s laughing so hard, there's water coming out of his nose. He leans forward, desperately reaching for a napkin when the person across from him lifts one up to his nose.

"You're so silly!" They say with a soft smile. Mike looks up at them, but their features are all blurry, 'Who are you?' Looking around, he recognizes his current favorite restaurant, but it looks slightly different. All the flowers are either blue or yellow, not the basic red roses, and leaves on vines have engulfed the brick walls. It's not the same Italian restaurant, this is something from a fairytale.

The world tilts on its axis as his mystery date asks him what he thinks. 'Why did your voice change?' They suddenly had a much higher and more feminine voice.

The world stops spinning. He had been daydreaming. He blinked at his real date for the night. The lighting is much harsher; there is no glow. The flowers are basic roses, and there is no special feeling in the air. 'That might be a good story prompt.' God, you'd think he'd take the hint.

"Mike, what do you think?" She tilts her head at him.

"O-of? Sorry, I must've missed it." Feeling guilty he straightens up and tries his best to look like he's been listening and is interested. He's not fooling anyone.

Sighing she says, "I was thinking of dressing up as a cowgirl for Halloween. It's just around the corner, you know."

Halloween was the whole reason Mike agreed to this date, he was a big fan of group costumes. 'I think that sounds basic and boring. What, did you dress up as a cat last year?' He doesn't say that because he knows it's impulsive and mean, even if he wants to. Plus, he already feels bad enough for daydreaming about someone else. He's doing surprisingly well at keeping his mouth shut.

"I think that sounds nice." He straightens up even more as he sees a waiter approaching with their food. As he sets it down on their table, Mike looks up, about to say thank you, but instead-

"Do I know you?" He blurts out. Nevermind. Although, it works out in his favor here because he would've never said anything.

The waiter ponders it for a minute before quietly saying, "You sit in my section a lot if that helps?" He politely omits that Mike has been here on four dates in the last two weeks.

"Are you sure? Maybe, I know you from a class or just walking through the hallway or the library-" He takes a breath, cutting himself off, "Sorry. You just seem very familiar."

"You're silly." The "mystery" waiter says lightly, then looks embarrassed that he let that slip. Mike was too stunned to say anything. 'Oh.' That is certainly something to think about. 'That might be note-worthy.' Might? For the next twenty minutes, he finds himself glancing at the waiter a lot and racking his brain for where he knows him from. He just moves food around his plate, too deep in thought to eat or give more than one-word answers to his date. My date! He's a multitasker by trade, actually.

His head snaps up to look at her just as she says, "You're obviously not interested in me." She grabs her clutch and stands up.

Usually, Mike would be getting defensive, why is it his fault? Why is he the bad guy? He uses common sense for once and knows she's right, he hasn't been paying her enough attention. Feeling guilty but also secretly thankful for the out she's giving him, he mumbles a lame excuse of an apology.

"It's fine, it's not that much of a loss."

Yes! Drag him! 'That's......fair.' She starts to leave before leaning close to lightheartedly taunt him, "Why don't you actually talk to him instead of just gawking, huh?" Then she leaves the restaurant.

'Am I really that obvious?' Yes, the answer is yes. His ears feel warm as he glances again at the pretty waiter. He catches his eye and starts walking over to him.

"How's everything?"

It went silent for a couple of heartbeats, as the gears in Mike's head started turning and the puzzle pieces started clicking into place. Just give him a moment, he'll get it eventually.

An epiphany crashed into Mike, "Will?!"

"Yes?" He replies skeptically, pointing lightly to his name tag. Mike is really the next Sherlock Homes, isn't he?

"No, no. You're Will! Will from elementary school, you know! Before you moved away."

You could see it click, a lot faster, for Will. "Mike?! Oh my gosh, you look so different, I didn't even recognize you! It's been forever."

"I know right, here come sit down for a moment. She's not coming back."

"I figured." My man can't catch a break.

He gasped. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." Will giggled while waving his arms, "It's just- You can be pretty absent-minded sometimes."

"I am not!" They continued to go back and forth, lighthearted jabs thrown across the table. A moment turned into many, and they didn't even notice for a long while, too absorbed in their conversation.

"It's been great seeing you, but, I've got to go. Gotta get back to work." Will pointed over his shoulder.

"Um! Maybe we could continue talking another time? Maybe, like over coffee or something?" Mike winced at how awkward his fumbling was. Forget Sherlock Homes, he's coming for Shakespeare next. Believe it or not, he's actually an English major.

"Yeah, that sounds great. Here, give me your phone," He clearly endeared by it. Mike handed his phone over and watches intently as Will typed in it. He's down bad.

"Cool, so-" Mike started but quickly lost confidence. Holy shit, this is hurts to watch.

"It's a date!" Will finished for him. "Bye, Mike!"

'This is way more than noteworthy, shit.' Oh, for fucks sake.