#not for any special reason i just really suck at drawing bows

[bearforceone3]

green arrow and speedy designs

[lantsovsupremacist]

nikolai lantsov: currents

warnings: nikolai lantsov being the best man ever wouldn’t you know 🙄☝️

spoilers: set during king of scars but no major spoilers!!!

you looked up from the paperwork strewn about the desk situated in a far corner of the war room. tucked away here, you would never be the first target. some might call it paranoia or chalk it up to the trauma of the civil war, but you simply preferred a spot to observe quietly in the shadows.

toyla and tamar followed the king inside, nodding at zoya, genya, and david surrounding you.

“oh. it’s you. it’s all of you. i...” the man, or more likely boy, who skittered into the room spoke in a squeaky tone, “an absolute honor. a dream, really.”

briefly meeting nikolai’s eyes as he turned around from shutting the door behind him, you transferred your line of sight to the figure now bowing at your feet. zoya scoffed, eyes rolling to the heavens. genya and david shared a cohesive frown.

dropping the pen from your hand, you pushed your hair over your shoulders and straightened. you listened thoughtfully as he gave an introduction to each of your fellow grisha, recounting his apparent conclusions of them. when he treaded the sparkling waters that were genya, your face began to drop into anger.

“the first tailor, who bears the marks of the darkling’s blessing.”

her flinch did not go unnoticed by you. and as the only one whose temper rivaled yours kept hers in check, you failed to. the pressure immediately began to decrease in the room and the air dry of any moisture. nikolai’s head whipped up, perhaps the one most familiar with your temperament (other than zoya in your shared youth—never happy to be on the receiving end of a soaked kefta in class).

his hands flew up, taking a step towards you, bartering with any position he could gain. your fierce protection over genya was not unknown to those close to you, a flaw in the monk’s faulty perception. you let your shoulders fall, calming any potential downpour.

if yuri noticed your show of power, he made no move to address it, “ravka’s most powerful tide maker. oh the stories of how the darkling sanctioned you with the power to drown men on land.”

you froze but not because of a lie. his words were all true. the darkling hand selected you for this special training at age eleven. you allowed the legend to transpire, protecting you much like kaz brekker, dirtyhands of ketterdam. this was not a lore you would repeat with starry eyes and dreams of an otherworldly fantasy. none of the lives you had been forced to take before jumping ship to join sturmhond during the civil war could be washed away.

for all of your hard edges and brutal words, there were chinks in your armor that could not be hidden. tamar and toyla brought a hand to their weapons in startling unison. zoya’s eyes called out for yours.

nikolai’s features immediately darkened, an eclipse shadowing the usual light in his eyes. he rose from his chair slowly, exhibiting all of the power that he had inherited.

the shameless monk managed to hold himself upright but the unchecked tremble of his fingers exposed the fear instilled by the king’s actions.

“if i ever hear of her name—any of their names—leaving your mouth again,” nikolai began, his words sharper than the edge of his sword, “for any purpose in any country,” nikolai paused to watch yuri shrink under his steady gaze, “there will be nothing left for your believers to mourn into martyrdom.”

you held your chin high, your eyes twin daggers poised to launch across the room and eagerly embed themselves in a target. the ire in your chest began to subside upon witnessing yuri’s response to your boyfriend’s threats, only to be readily replaced by a flush of desire as his hazel eyes sharpened.

breaking eye contact with the monk who could not decide where to offer his, you glanced about the room. zoya had steeled herself beside you, radiating enough anger to address each of yuri’s mislead and misspoken opinions. even david’s face appeared from behind the book in his hands, though he kept his page by leaving it open to rest on his lap.

“am i correct in my assumption that you have heard me clearly,” nikolai’s voice carried across the walls, not quite commanding any longer but instead demanding the attention of those stood inside.

“y-yes your highness,” yuri stumbled out weakly as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his wiry nose.

after finishing up matters with your friends, nikolai took off out of the room, glancing back to make sure you intended to follow. you fell in step behind him, remaining quiet until you reached the stairs leading up to his chambers.

“i could have handled him, you know,” you pressed nikolai, hands repeatedly flexing and unflexing as they brushed against the sides of your blue kefta. your tone held no anger, simply indicating a truth.

nikolai drummed his fingers against the railing, pausing before turning back to face you, “of course you could have, love, but where’s the fun in that for me?”

you appreciated his willingness to defend your honor but the playfulness in his tone felt forced. he did not even make an attempt at his trademark smile imbued by charm and confidence. you decided in that moment that you would do to see it’s safe return.

“nik,” you spoke, repeating yourself after the absence of an answer, “nik.” your hand finding its way into his own hanging limply at his side.

“do you really see yourself in that way?” his voice shook, nearly choking on his final words.

any time the topic was brought up, nikolai was reminded of your stance. you had broken down to him the night after the darkling fell at the hands of alina starkov. no matter any of your friend’s persuasion, you stood firm in your position. you deserved to pay for the harm you inflicted on so many innocent. you were a monster, one who had given in to being handcrafted by another.

the untroubled nature with which he typically carried himself had vanished. your own expression faltered. his particular kind of magic, knowing smirks and careful quips that were like incantations for smiles, vanished.

and while it was normal for nikolai to drop the facade of a charming king around you, the pain held in his eyes plummeted your heart into your stomach.

“i think i did once,” you replied airily, not wasting your breath on a lie that nikolai could surely detect before the sound waves settled, “right after the war ended.”

nikolai chewed on the inside of his cheek anxiously, “but you’ve intentionally chosen past tense to describe these feelings.”

“yes,” you nodded, drawing your lover closer to you by the lapels of his jacket, “always so observant. it’s only of the many things i admire about you.”

nikolai sighed, closing his eyes and letting his blonde curls fall upon your forehead. you brought a hand up to stroke his cheekbone, soaking in the warmth of his skin pressed up against own.

“your strength,” nikolai said after a moment, drawing a hand to your waist, “your perseverance.”

“hmm?” you hummed quietly in question, content to reside with him inside this moment only belonging to the two of you.

“qualities i admire in you, my love,” he smiled after a moment, not entirely to be described as filled with confidence but surety nonetheless.

the flush of color in your cheeks always reminded nikolai of the pink dahlias planted in his favorite corner of the garden. maybe it was because it was where he had first kissed you. he decided that was probably his reason, although he never needed one to justify the beauty of either the memory or girl in front of him now.

too caught up in the memory, nikolai’s lips dipped to yours. you could always grasp a lingering taste of saltwater no matter how far away he was from sea, how many weeks removed. it reminded you of home. it was home.

“i love that you protect me, sobachka” you whispered against his lips, down his jaw and neck.

you did not need the exaggerated tales of your terrifying capabilities to destroy to wear as armor anymore, for you had the best man you had ever known to guard you.

as his hand wove into your hair and the other spiraling lower down your back, your breath hitched in your throat when he answered, “i can do so much more than that, my sea.”

nikolai settled on a simple quip, something guaranteed to make you smile. as a boy, he dreamed of a girl who would laugh at all of his jokes. when he grew, he figured many would be forged, a fallacy to fall in good graces with the king. he had yet to detect a lie within the giggles that left your lips.

the golden haired king would do anything to see you smile. he would pour hours into chasing perfection for you. once, he had even allowed toyla to confer with him about romantic poetry. despite the recitation being quite dreadful, you had laughed the most you had in a long time that day. now, just to catch up with the smallest piece of that magic again, he brought a new poem to you each night.

“i thought that i had seen the most gorgeous sights as sturmhond,” he began, unable to help biting his lip at your smallest quirk of a smile, “the volkvolny showed me how to fall in love with the endless waves at sea.”

you sucked in a breath, immersed in the way he spoke so intentionally. he was entrancing. you loved to hear about his travels before you met him, immersed in his storytelling.

“but none of them were every as beautiful as the ones you make,” he finished with a grin.

instead of reaching up to smack him at the cliche, you ignored your first reaction and instead pulled him closer to you. with your hands tucked against the back of his neck, you allowed your thumb to ruffle his lose and unruly curls. here, he was soft and gentle, untouched by his role.

“our ship had four other tidemakers,” you voiced softly, recalling your betrayal of the darkling after sturmhond’s crew imposed a mutiny, “but you chose me to lead the crew. you told me that was because i was the most powerful, but i certainly wasn’t with the waves. my power was not as practiced with currents.”

“but they were the prettiest,” he chuckled with puppy dog eyes honoring his nickname.

you gaped at this confession, “are you telling me you picked me as a leader during a war because the waves i created were pretty?” the initial seriousness in your tone melted away with every breath.

“i remember calling them the prettiest,” he twisted your hips, swaying you with him, “didn’t help me that the girl that could make them was the most gorgeous one i had ever seen. darling, i’m a prince, so i will inform you now that i have met a lot of people.”

your laughter was more delicate now, trailing off as you found direction in his eyes, “i had not been trusted with currents in years,” your voice softened, “he wanted my power elsewhere. i hated all of it. do you know the only memory i have of my parents is my father guiding the currents with me while we fished outside of town as a child? i was so excited to create like that with my power but all i did was destroy,” fighting back any moisture building in your eyes, you continued, “you gave me that back, nikolai.”

nikolai felt his heart stir inside his chest. he caught up to one of his most favorite smiles of yours. a rarity it was, reserved for the quietest and most understated moments that you could hardly share due to the both of your occupations and temperaments.

“i love every part of you,” nikolai dictated, “every drop of saltwater in the sea could not compare.”

you repeated the phrase before stilling, “well, now you’ve gone and ruined this with another one of toyla’s fictions.”

“ah, ah,” he tsked, “i made that one up myself, love.”

[gallickingun]

How do you think Tama would react if you begged him to cum inside you while you were having sex? I just want our sweet elf boy to give me a nice creampie

cw: breeding kink, oral (m. receiving), praise, bit o’ dacryphilia!

His thumb is soft against your lower lip, watching with his own unhinged jaw as you bob your head up and down on his cock, the tip nudging your tongue until you are able to take him further, until your throat is tensing up around the thick shaft and you’re drooling down your chin. He swallows, a shininess in his eyes that he gets every time you beg to please him, every time you drop to your knees to prove to him that he’s worth a thousand stars.

“You’re so pretty,” and he doesn’t even mean to say it, not really. Tamaki’s voice is barely above a whisper, and his tongue parts his mouth so he can lick up and over the bow of his upper lip. An exhale shudders his shoulders and his free hand rubs your neck in a soothing motion, and for some reason he wants to kiss you so badly that he can’t see straight.

Or maybe that’s just a biproduct of your pretty mouth suckling all the way to the base of him.

Tamaki’s irises are hidden from you now, his lids unable to stutter open any longer, the further you take him, the more saliva that pools around the base of him until it drips from his balls to the floor. He moans, high and whiney, and his head drops back against the wall behind him, “Baby, ‘m gonna come if you keep that up.”

The thought of being able to taste him is divine, but your thighs throb with the need for something more. You swallow the pool of drool and pre that sits heavy on your tongue, and sit back on your thighs so you can look him in the eyes, seeking out those sweet, darkened irises with a gentle squeeze of his thigh under your petite grip, “T-Tama?”

You’ve wanted this for a while, wanted to beg and plead and cry until he gives it to you, but Tamaki swore he’d go slow, savor every piece of you until you’re tired and then, he’ll do it all over again. But, still, there is something missing. Your eyes are drawn momentarily to the shiny packages littered across your nightstand, taunting you silently, quietly mocking your every movement. You’ve purposefully bruised both of your knees tonight, with the hope that you can draw out such a long, heady arousal from him that it would leak out of you — but not your mouth, not this time.

“Yeah?” he’s trying his hardest not to stutter, you can tell. Your thumb runs over his knee and then you’re cupping your hands along his calves, anchoring yourself to the floor so you don’t float away with how effervescent his gaze makes you feel. You’re squirming on the floor now, the heels of your feet dug into your ass to give yourself some sort of harsh reminder that you need to get this question out of the way, that it will bother you until you know his answer.

You bite your lower lip to bring yourself back to reality and the sentence is slurred, but at least you’ve propelled it from your lips this time, “W-Will you come in me?”

His hips stutter to a stop and you’re worried you’ve run him off. You lick your lips and massage your thumbs in circles against his ankles, drifting palms headed north to administer the same affections to his thighs. Tamaki inhales in a shudder, and his thick fingers slide along your neck until he’s near gripping you at the shoulders, like he might push you further down until the floor swallows you whole. His thumb traces your jawline until he reaches your lower lip, and he cannot stop himself as he runs the pad of his fingerprint against the swell of your lower lip.

“Y-You mean it?” he is hesitant, and you could cry at the sound of his voice breaking the silence. Your mouth laps at the spittle and start of his orgasm that beads against his cockhead, pearlescent and pretty along the purpled tip. A nod has your mind boggling, and all you want is to let him drown you in whatever he’s willing to give you, just to taste him in your womb instead of your throat.

Tamaki guides you to your feet, fingers circled around your wrists to hold you closely, “Angel, I need to know—“

“Yes, I mean it,” your voice is firm and your gaze is direct enough to match. With a gusto you did not have moments prior, you reach out to hold his shaft in your hand, swiveling your palm up and down the length of him so the head disappears in your grasp and he’s already moaning on your first pass. He bucks his hips but then thinks twice, holding you by the hips and angling his pelvis backward so he does not move again, “I-I’m close, c-can’t keep goin’ like this.”

You are a mess when you take another step forward and practically beg him with your words and your gaze, “Then fuck me, ‘jiki. Want to feel you, all of you, inside of me, please!”

Unsure of where your words incited the riot that is his next movements, you allow him to take you along for the ride. Tamaki guides you to the bed and settles between your thighs, wanting to watch the way you fall apart beneath him as he spears you on the thick of his cock and he milks the sticky translucent arousal from between your precious, velveteen folds. He’s slow and deliberate with each thrust, savoring the way your plush warmth steals the very breath from his lungs, sucking him in like it might be the last stroke you ever feel. His palms are tucked under your knees, using the leverage of this position to hold you near folded in half, something you might complain about if it weren’t for the fucked out expression slackening his features.

“Ah, I’m, ‘m cl-close, angel,” he whimpers, and you’re surprised he’s managed this long. You feel a haze cloud your vision and you know it’s the tears that always fall when he fucks you raw on his cock. He’s so thick and deliberate, and you find yourself lost in every bit of him no matter how he takes you. Tamaki’s hips slam into your ass and it stings, and you’re sure that there will be a plethora of reminders of this evening in the form of blistering purple bruises along the curve of your ass.

“Please, Tama’,” you are wanton and uncaring in the desperation to your tone. You buck into him, meeting him more than halfway, the promise of his seed driving you to a new level of hungry. Tears seep down your cheeks and he releases one leg in favor of throwing it over his shoulder, just so he can brush his thumb over the curve of your face, collecting the saltine droplet on his fingertip. You open your mouth in beckoning for his finger, and he obliges you with little question, nothing but adoration and awe in his eyes as he watches your lips mold around his thick digit, suckling and licking at the knuckles.

Tamaki rolls his lips and then his hips and he gasps for breath, “Tell me, love, tell me what you want from me, please, I need you to—“

It is the only encouragement you need to beg for his cock, his come, to tell him that it’s the only thing left to complete you. There is a hole carved out in your innermost parts, and it’s created just for him. You are a desolate wasteland without the depths of his affections, and the weight of his cock between your thighs is but one facet to the gem of your relationship. Your nails are relentless against his back and shoulders, clawing at him like he might be taken from you if you were to let him go. Tamaki indulges you to the fullest, not a single complaint from his full lips as he bucks into you with a sheer force that rivals even the most brutish of men.

“R-Right there,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself, “g-gonna stuff you full, angel, gonna give you all my come until it’s pouring out of you, is that what you want?”

You’re incapable of speech at this point, too fucked out to do much other than listen and receive. Luckily for you both, you’re receptive enough for a thousand lifetimes, eyes widening and mouth parted in a silent begging as you tighten your thighs and cant your hips in time with his rhythm. The pleadings you’re able to muster are little more than musings, incomplete sentences and half-syllables, but he has been with you long enough to know what you mean.

Tamaki seems to put it all together on his last stroke, eyes widening as he falls forward, hips stuttering with aborted, untimely shifts until you feel the warmth inside of you duplicate tenfold, his cock twitching until he’s spent himself dry. Still, Tamaki moves like he might get started up again, half-hard cock still nestled into the sticky heat of your cunt, watching as the milky slick coats his cock in a ring, collecting when he pulls himself out only to stuff you full all over again. You wonder for a moment if he’s doing this with the knowledge that he’s fucking deeper into your womb with each roll of his hips, but you don’t have the wherewithal to ask.

“So pretty,” his words are but a distant echo of earlier, and this time the meaning is increasingly more lewd than it was when he was merely watching you take his cock deeper and deeper into your throat. Now, with the pulsating thick of his shaft finding purchase in the plush of your cunt, his words carry more weight, and this time you know he’s referencing the way your folds coat him in slick, not leaving an inch of him insatiable for your come. He is coated in it, drenched in the mixture of you both, and immediately, the desire to repeat the action stirs his cock from the depths of your body.

“No, you,” you giggle, framing his face with your hands so you can bring him forward for a kiss, “you’re always so pretty, ‘specially when you come.”

Tamaki turns so his cheek is pressed to yours, hoping you didn’t see the lustful darkening of his amethyst irises before he responds, “Wanna see me get downright gorgeous?”

A giggle is shared between the two of you, along with another round of your begging and pleading to be stuffed to the brim, and who is Tamaki to deny you of something when you ask so sweetly?

[onionsaremeansstuff]

Would you write a michael (john) smut story were the reader is his soulmate and some random guy is flirting with him. also michael gets possessive with the reader which causes them to have sex

hey! Thanks for the request ! Michael is one of my favorite characters in supernatural so i really liked you request ! I’m not the best smut writer but I tried, hope you like it!

Pairing: Michael!John x reader

Gender: Male

Warnings: Smut

I dont own the character or the gif

"Y/N! Stop!" A deep, booming voice ordered which caused you to stop. 

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was that ordered you to stop. 

It was the archangel, Michael. 

A few weeks ago, Chuck had decided to release Michael from the cage, as well as giving Adam his body back and Michael was using young John Winchester's body as a vessel. 

You had never met the archangel before and honestly, you never wanted to meet him. But, since you lived with the Winchesters, meeting him was bound to happen eventually. 

When you first met the Archangel, he only stared at you like he was seeing through you and claimed that you were special. 

Apparently you were some kind of powerhouse that Chuck created for Michael. 

As long as you are living, Michael gets stronger, especially when he's around you. 

When he first claimed that you were special, you scoffed and told him to go fuck himself and leave you alone. But, that didn't stop the prince of Heaven from doing what he wanted. 

He always came to the bunker to check on you. And you asked why he cares about you so much. 

"I don't care about you, I only care about what you can do, little human." He told you.

He made it very clear why he came to check up on you and this time wasn't any different. 

He also liked to order you around. 

"It's already 3 AM, Y/N. You humans need your sleep. Go to bed now and that's an order!" 

You looked at him tiredly and was about to say something back to him when you really looked at him and his vessel. 

Damn, John was hot. 

You met older John before and you thought that he was definitely a DILF. 

But, his younger self was hot as fuck. 

"Stop having those thoughts about my vessel and go to bed!" The Angel ordered once again. 

"Okay, you don't tell me what to do. You don't own me," You responded, and annoyance was written across Michael's face. He snapped his fingers and you were suddenly lying down in your bed with your pajamas on, "Michael!" You scolded. 

You were standing in the kitchen, waiting for Dean to finish making breakfast which consisted of pancakes and bacon. 

"Goodnight, Y/N." He growled out before he disappeared with the sound of flapping wings.

---

"Hurry up, Dean. I'm starving!" You exclaimed and a chuckle left the older man's mouth. 

"You will survive, kiddo." He replied and went back to cooking the food. 

Finally, he finished the food and put it on a plate for you. He handed it to you and you took it out of his hands quickly, plopping down into the chair and picking up a fork, ready to eat this delicious food. 

When you were about to eat it, the plate freakin' disappeared. It was gone. 

"What the-" Before you could finish that sentence, a plate full of salad appeared in front of you. 

A freakin' salad?! 

"Your diet is horrible, little human." Michael commented with that stupid smirk on his face. 

"I'm sure that there are other important things for you to do in Heaven right now than to worry about my health and my food choices, Michael." You said angrily, anger rising in your chest. 

Dean sat at the table, eating his food as he watched you two go at it. 

"There's actually nothing important that I have to do in Heaven right now, Y/N. Heaven is doing great which is the exact opposite of what you are doing right now. Don't even get me started on the fact that you didn't even get 8 hours of sleep last night." 

You blinked at the angel in front of you. 

This angel is crazy. He is not your dad and was not someone to boss you around and make you eat rabbit food. You don't eat rabbit food. You now see  and understand what Dean was talking about when Sam brought that food in here. 

 You have officially had enough. 

You just smiled at them. A huge fake smile and grabbed the knife off the table. You walked over to the wall as the other two standing in the room watched you. After cutting your palm, you drew that angel banishing sigil on the wall. 

"What are you-" Michael couldn't finish that sentence because you completed the sigil and sent that damn angel away. 

"Ah, couple fights always make my mornings better." Dean spoke once Michael was gone with his mouth full of bacon and you rolled your eyes, leaving the room. 

 ---

That night, you and the Winchesters went to a bar. 

The brothers headed inside while you stayed outside, sitting on the bench. There weren't anyone out here except for a few other people. Some drunk and some not. 

"Hey handsome, did your license get suspended because you are driving me crazy." A random guy said that really cheesy pick up line to you, giving you a smile and you laughed. 

"You get a 0 for the pickup line, but a 10 for making me laugh." You told him and started chatting with him.

"So, Y/N..." He started rubbing his finger up and down your thigh as you felt yourself flush, "I may not be from NASA, but can I show you stars today?" 

 You opened your mouth to reply, but the annoying angel interrupted your conversation. 

"Sorry, but he's busy today." Michael spoke, irritation could be heard in his voice. He grabbed onto your shoulder and teleported you back to the bunker. 

"What the hell is your problem, Michael?" You screamed at the archangel. 

"That disgusting human tried to have sex with you, Y/N! I saved you!" 

"Maybe I wanted to have sex with him, Mikey." You retaliated, grabbing your knife and getting ready to draw that angel banishing sigil again, but Michael snapped his fingers and the knife disappeared. 

"You deserve way better than that filthy mongrel." Michael insisted. 

"Look, I know I'm like your powerhouse, or whatever, but you can't control my life. My eating habits and sleep schedule were pretty harmless, but who I have sex with is crossing a line and is none of your business." You told him, "Besides, I'm human. A mongrel or a hairless ape like you always say, so why do you care so much?" 

Michael stared at you for a long time before telling you what he was thinking, "Because I can't stand the idea of someone touching you." He let out a sigh and looked anywhere other than you. 

You looked at him in confusion, "Why can't you stand it?" 

 "I lied to you, Y/N. You are not a source of energy for me. You never were." He admitted, sitting on the bed, "You are so much more than just that. You are my soulmate." 

You stared at him for a couple seconds before you started laughing hysterically. 

"Me? Your soulmate?" You laughed again before having a serious expression on your face, "If this is some plan to get me to let you control my life, it's not gonna work." 

He looked at you, hurt and confused. 

 "I'm serious, Y/N. When I left the cage, Dad told me he had created a soulmate for me weeks ago." He got up from the bed and walked over to you, "When he showed me you, I started to laugh. How can a hairless ape be my soul mate? My father must have been crazy." He looked  at you deep in your eyes, "But, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I looked down on you from Heaven all the time to see how you were and your little habits. Oh My Father, I couldn't stand it. I wanted you. I wanted every inch of you," He walked closer to you and placed his hand on your cheek, "When I first met you in person, I thought about just taking care of you and being close to you and when I saw that man hit on you, I couldn't take it anymore. My grace boiled inside of me and before I knew it, I was on earth."

You couldn't really process everything that he just said, but for some reason you knew that he was telling the truth. 

"Michael..."

"I can't stand the idea of ​​another person, or thing touching you, Y/N. Please accept me as your soulmate." He bowed, waiting for your answer. 

You always said you hated Michael and everything he did, but that was far from the 

As much as the angel irritated you and could be very annoying, you felt a feeling of love deep down for this man.You loved Michael and all the things he has done for you. 

So, you knew what decision was right for you in the end.

"I accept you as my soulmate." 

And with that the angel smiled and attached his lips to yours. His muscular arms soon pulled at your waist, bringing you closer to him. 

"I wanted to do this for so long." He said  between kisses and then lifted you up. 

You were slightly worried about your weight but soon remembered that for an angel, you basically weighed nothing. 

 "Please Y/N, allow me to have you tonight. Allow me to make our flesh become one and allow me to merge your soul with my grace." You grunted yes between his lips but he seemed to understand since he threw you on your bed while looking at you as if you were his prey. 

He started removing the shirt he was wearing and you could see the man's muscular torso. 

"Lust is a deadly sin, Y/N." He bent down and started kissing your collarbone until he reached your ear, "Lucky you have an angel to cleanse you of your sins." 

Michael went back to your neck, sucking on it, making you moan his name. 

"This is it Y/N, pray for me." He started to suck hard on your neck until it was all marked with hickeys, "Now no miserable mortal will dare touch what is mine." He got up a little and kissed you hard, as his hand went under your shirt and caressed your torso. Michael pulled away to look at you. 

"You are by far the most perfect human to ever exist. in fact, it is a crime to compare you to a human. You are closer to a God." He said as a gentle hand stroked your sides. 

"Michael, there are more beautiful humans in the world than me." you said a little shy

"Well, I have watched humanity billions of years and you are my father's most beautiful creation." You blushed and Michael smirked, feeling confident. 

He started to remove his belt slowly, lowering his pants enough for you to see his underwear. 

"Do you like what you see, my prince?" He teased, winking at you. 

"Who knew an angel could secretly be a demon in bed." 

"You woke up a darker side of me, my prince. I had to deal with them myself, so I ended up learning something or two." He took off his pants and lowered his underwear enough to show his pubes. 

"Did you watch porn?" You asked and he just smiled. 

 "It doesn't matter now, honey." Michael lowered his underwear and revealed his erect member. 

 You had seen John naked once by accident and you already knew that older Winchester had a big package. 

 But, oh my Chuck the size scared you a little bit. 

"We’ll take it easy, Y/N. Don't be afraid."  He gently caressed your thigh as a method to calm you down. 

 When he saw that you were fine he crawled over to you, sitting on your chest and pointing his erect member in front of you

 "You know... seeing you sucking lollipops and popsicles was always a hell of a good sight to see. Your lips working on something so cold and hard, and still not being able to do anything. Well, I think you should pay me for having teased me for so long." He stated, brushing the head of his dick on your tongue "What a sight..." He gently put his dick in your mouth, inch by inch until it reached halfway and stopped.

"So hot and so cozy." Michael groaned and put a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair "Look at me." He ordered and you complied. 

 The moment you looked into his eyes you felt a thick taste of pre-cum in your mouth. 

 Slowly Michael pulled his hip back, leaving only his cockhead in your mouth before slowly putting it all back on. He repeated this movement over and over until you got used to it and then he started to fuck your mouth, getting deeper and deeper into your throat and making you choke a few times. Michael fucked your throat with formidable speed as he threw his head back and moaned. 

"So perfect." He spoke as he took his dick out of your mouth, bending down and planting a sweet kiss on your lips as well as checking if you were okay, "Let me worship you, my prince." Michael snapped his fingers and soon you were fully naked. 

 He turned you over and started to kiss your neck gently, making a kiss trail up and down your neck. He slowly went lower and lower, until he reached your ass. He put a hand on each cheek separating them and revealing your hole. 

 "So beautiful." Was the last thing you heard before feeling something wet and hot touching the perimeter of your hole. 

Michael gently brushed you with the tip of his tongue while his rough hands gripped your ass tightly. He wanted to mark you everywhere on your body. 

Soon a strange but good feeling started inside you, it was like you were being touched inside and soon a groan escaped your lips.

"What are you doing?" You asked between incessant moans. 

"My grace has many uses, Y/N and I heard that stimulating the prostate causes great pleasure. Apparently this is true." He replied as he ate you out. 

But this time he didn't lick gently. He was devouring you. Michael's tongue was fast and hungry, exploring the entire perimeter of your hole before penetrating you. 

 It was too much. The feeling was so overwhelming. Michael's tongue along with his grace made you unable to think. 

You felt your orgasm coming real quick, but you couldn't warn Michael in time.

When you were so close to a release everything stopped and you felt something holding your dick.

"Not yet, Y/N. We're going to do this together." Michael said and came out of the middle of your legs, kissing your crack up to your neck. He forced you to look at him and kissed you, "Y/N. My prince, will you give me permission to take you?"

You took a moment to contemplate Michael. The blue-green eyes looked at you with indescribable passion, as if you were a masterpiece that deserved to be contemplated. His mouth curled upward into a smile and his dark hair was so sweaty.

You always thought Michael's vessel was beautiful, but now you can't think of anything more beautiful than him. You no longer see him as young John, but as the person who loved you.

"Y/N? Is everything okay? If I went too far I'm sorry I thought that-"

"No, sorry I was just lost in thoughts." You kissed him on the lips, "Take me, Michael."

He smiled and snapped his fingers.

"As much as the whole preparation process is interesting and important, I am impatient, so why not just use my grace, right?" He winked at you and turned you on your back and positioned himself between your legs.

Michael slowly started to penetrate you until the head of his dick was completely inside of you. He looked at you to check that everything was fine before going in deeper. Inch by inch until he was completely inside. He bent down and started kissing your neck, waiting for you to get used to his size.

Michael then started to move, taking all of his length except his head and then putting everything back on. He repeated the movement over and over, each time with more speed until finally he pounds you.

Michael turned into a moaning mess while he fucked you.

He started kissing you while you moaned against each other.

One of Michael's hands flicked your nipple while another explored and caressed your torso. This along with Michael's accurate hit on your prostate made you moan loudly and Michael smirked.

"Do you think that man from earlier could make you feel the way you're feeling now?" Michael asked, "Do you think he would be able to fuck you  the way I fuck  you?" You didn't answer the question, but Michael already knew the answer. 

Michael's arms wrapped around you and turned you over. Now you were on top of him. 

"Ride me, babyboy." He put his hands behind his head and waited for you to start riding him, admiring the view. 

Michael had seen countless things in the world. From the paintings of each classic painting to the creation of each of the wonders of the world, but nothing could match the sight he was seeing now. 

With your eyes closed and your head thrown back, you moaned and rode him like there was no tomorrow. 

Michael moved his hands and placed one on each side of your, guiding you in the movements you were making. 

He knew was almost close and knew you would soon be close, too. Michael pulled you against his chest, moving so that he could move his hips so that he could continue to fuck you. 

"Y/N," He moaned out," My prince, my soul mate. I love you and I would leave everything for you. Heaven and my grace. You are my everything." Michael declared, but you could barely think with him pounding into you, his dick hitting your prostate constantly. 

You felt something warm involving you.  

It was Michael's wings. 

 With a grunt, Michael came inside of you but without stopping his movements.Your battered prostate along with the feeling of Michael's hot cum inside you brought you to your orgasm. 

 With your orgasm, Michael's movements became more and more slow until he finally stopped with both you panting hard. 

 Michael kissed you everywhere. On your head, your lips, your forehead, your neck. 

 His wings still surrounded you. 

 Michael moved you, putting you aside while he spooned you, his cock still inside you. 

A comforting hand gently caressed your thigh, "You are perfect, Y/N. I am eternally grateful that you let me love you." He kissed the back of your neck "Now rest my prince. Tomorrow we will have many things to do." He gave you one last kiss on the back of your neck.

You didn't know exactly what your relationship with Michael would be like now. But honestly you didn't care about that. 

All you cared about was the fact that your angel was hugging you with his wings surrounding you. 

And nothing else.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 25, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Holy crap, Episode 25! We’re halfway through! *Cue Bon Jovi*

Hunt Invitation

After taking a nice long break to watch Word of Honor pick lotus pods, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli return to stressing over the shitshow that is the post-Sunshot cultivation world. Jin Zixuan has come to invite them to the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, with a special invitation from his mother to Jiang Yanli. Jiang Cheng reacts to this in a mature and reasonable manner, while Wei Wuxian...doesn't.

On the surface, Jiang Cheng has matured in recent months; much more than Wei Wuxian, with his secret burdens, has. But it's only on the surface, as we'll see later in the episode, when Jiang Cheng's insecurity will take the reins.

Jin Zixuan is adorably pleased by Jiang Yanli's acceptance of the invitation. Wei Wuxian is less pleased, but sort of tries to suck it up. 

Jin Zixuan kind of undercuts the romance of his errand by asking Wei Wuxian for the Yin tiger amulet as soon as Jiang Yanli is out of earshot. 

As always, Jin Zixuan makes an impression by being the best Jin currently in existence, but the Jins are terrible. JZX is working to advance his dad's ambitions, and as such he is currently Wei Wuxian's enemy.  

(more after the cut)

Opening Ceremonies

There's a bunch of cultivators arranged for the opening ceremony. Later someone will say that this is more than 5 thousand people. Ok, sure.

As I've said before, it's best to think of it like a theatre production and assume the other 4,900 people are offstage or, you know, painted on the backdrop.  

The young lead cultivators from the four main clans are standing together. Nie Huaisang is trying out some new body armor.

The clan leaders are seated up on the stage, along with Jin Furen and Jiang Yanli. Unfortunately Jin Furen doesn't seem to have a personal name that I can discover. Her title Fūrén ( 夫人)  means she's the primary wife of the head of the family, according to this excellent meta. 

So “Madame Jin” is a decent translation...if you're French?  I feel like instead of English subtitles including borrowed words from French (”Marquis” in NIH), Greek (”Water of Lethe” in WOH), and other European languages, we could try borrowing Chinese words instead. Jin Zixuan's mom is titled, not named, Jin Furen. Since we don’t know her actual name, I'll call her that and abbreviate it JFR.

Wei Wuxian's childishness continues at the opening of the hunt, as does Jiang Yanli's encouragement of his childishness. I know she's had a rough couple of years, and it's understandable to want to baby her little brother out of a sense of nostalgia. But it's not good for him, and she shouldn't do it; she should encourage him to be more mature, just as she does with Jiang Cheng.

War Crimes Contest

Jin Guangyao says they're going to have an archery competition, and they're going to liven it up by endangering some prisoners. These prisoners are Wens in Wen cultivator uniforms, meaning they're not the noncombatants that were being hunted down earlier. But they’re still helpless people in chains. 

There are three different reactions when the Wen prisoners are brought out.  All the Jins are pleased, or neutral. All of the Jiangs, including Wei Wuxian, are upset.

The Nies and the Lans, what we see of them, are a little shocked, but not obviously upset. Based on those reactions, it seems like this is a maneuver that in-world is considered shocking and cruel, but not necessarily unethical or immoral.  Shocking, cruel displays of power are pretty normal in this world; remember when Wen Chao lit a Lan cultivator on fire just to say hello, and nobody complained? 

This whole scenario, of course, has been designed to provoke Wei Wuxian. One major goal of this event, and the whole reason for wanting Wei Wuxian to come,  is to get the Yin Tiger amulet.  Making him lose his shit in front of 100 5000 cultivators is a good step toward compelling him to hand the amulet over.  

We see Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli both signaling Wei Wuxian to keep it together, and he takes a step back and tries to chill.  

Meanwhile, Jin Zixuan seems annoyed by all this, and goes to take a shot at it, making it clear from his demeanor that this is easy and JGY is making a show of nothing. 

He hovers in the air and makes a perfect shot, pleasing most of the crowd and impressing Jiang Yanli. 

Then his cousin Jin Zixun taunts the crowd, challenging anyone to do better.  This presents a bit of a problem for Wei Wuxian. For the sake of the Wen prisoners, Wei Wuxian should just take this taunting and let the contest end, if no-one else is willing to take a shot. But for the sake of the Jiang Clan’s status, and his continued control of the Yin Tiger amulet, he needs to put the Jins in their place.  

Every Day is Blindfold Day

This moral dilemma is resolved with an abrupt tonal shift, where the humanitarian concerns of all parties seem to vanish. Wei Wuxian flirts embarrassingly with Lan Wangji and then goes as far over the top in besting Jin Zixuan as it's possible to go.

The flirting hits differently, incidentally, when you edit Jiang Cheng's annoyed reaction out of it: 

Lan Wangji doesn't seem embarrassed by Wei Wuxian's request, despite it happening in front of 100 5000 of their fellow cultivators. He looks Wei Wuxian straight in the eye for longer than necessary before turning away; it’s not exactly stern disapproval. We’ll get very used to this look, in Wei Wuxian’s second life. 

Fortunately, Wei Wuxian carries a blindfold with him wherever he goes, (gifset here), and he is such a good cultivator he can hit 5 parallel targets simultaneously without even holding his bow straight or tightening the string.

(OP fixed the angle of the bow for this gif, which is why everyone is standing on a hill in the background).

Everyone is pleased by this shot except Jins Guangyao and Zixun; even the Jin cultivators are clapping, and Madame Jin is presumably this happy any time Jin Guangyao’s plans go wrong.

With that they start the hunt. Jin Zixun challenges Wei Wuxian to do the whole hunt blindfolded. Wei Wuxian agrees, but the censorship committee said no, apparently, so we don’t get to see that.

Flute Hunting

We do get to see Wei Wuxian luring monsters into his nets by being too sexy for his robe, too sexy for his robe, and playing the flute.  

We also get to see Jiang cultivators looking puzzled while random monster roars happen in the woods around them. We do not get to see any monsters, which is probably just as well.

Jiang Cheng is annoyed and concerned, muttering "I told you not to overdo it" which means he didn't, you know, tell Wei Wuxian NOT to do this, just not to do it quite so well. Jiang Cheng knows what Wei Wuxian’s abilities are and he is making use of him, as he should, but he doesn’t have the courage of his convictions. 

Tree Confession

Wei Wuxian sees Lan Wangji and starts to say hi, but then he has a desaturated flashback to Lan Xichen telling him to back off, so he stops himself.  But then Lan Wangji comes over to talk to him.

Lan Wangji starts off talking to him about his latest anti-resentment musical discoveries, and Wei Wuxian pushes back, even calling him Lan Wangji, but gently.  Wei Wuxian asks "who am I to you?" and Lan Wangji turns the question right back at him, then waits a looooooong time, eyes downcast, while Wei Wuxian thinks of a serious answer.

Wei Wuxian says "I used to treat you as my zhījǐ" --which, as we’ve discussed before, is variously translated soulmate, confidant, intimate friend--with a strong meaning of "the person who truly knows me." Lan Wangji says "I still am." Coming from Lan Wangji, who NEVER says how he feels about Wei Wuxian or about anything, really, this sounds a lot like a confession of love. 

It definitely takes the form, visually, of a love confession, as Lan Wangji speaks, then gazes at Wei Wuxian while he waits for a reply.  Wei Wuxian's reply is this:

I don't think Wei Wuxian is oblivious (I'm speaking strictly of CQL, not MZDS, as always with these posts; they are different works). I think he loves Lan Wangji back, and knows it. But Chenqing and everything it represents are between them.

Lan Wangji is quite literally NOT his zhījǐ any more, because he doesn't truly know Wei Wuxian right now. He loves him desperately, but he doesn't know about his core, and hasn't accepted his cultivation method.  So Wei Wuxian answers his confession by showing him Chenqing, effectively declining to accept his still-conditional love.

Snake Measuring

Next we get terrible hetero courtship in the form of Jin Zixuan finding snake discharge on the ground and talking to Jiang Yanli about comparative snake measuring. Seriously: that is the actual conversation that they are having.

Jin Zixuan boasts for a bit, and then awkwardly tries to ask Jiang Yanli on a date. When she turns him down he gets mad, because he's a typical heterosexual dude even though he's secretly a delightful person...very, very secretly. Jiang Yanli, for her part, can't string a fucking sentence together to save her life whenever he's around, so she's not helping their mutual understanding. 

Lan Wangji attempts to hold Wei Wuxian back from beating Jin Zixuan’s ass yet again, but eventually JYL wants to leave, JZX tells her to wait, and WWX intervenes. Why doesn't Jiang Yanli have a maid or Jiang cultivator with her while she's on a date, incidentally? These kids are confused about whether they're doing feudal patriarchy or whether they're doing modern social life.

Jin vs. Jiang

Wei Wuxian jumps in between Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, which JZX objects to. Jin Zixuan has no fucking business objecting and Wei Wuxian is 100% right, at this point. As soon as WWX shows up JZX should hand her off to her Shidi, bow, and leave her the fuck alone. Instead, he draws his sword on Wei Wuxian, and kind of on Jiang Yanli since she's right behind Wei Wuxian.  Fortunately, Lan Wangji blocks him. 

This instantly blows up into a Jiang-Jin Clan conflict, with Jiang Cheng unfortunately absent since he let his unmarried sister go off in the woods alone with the son of the Cultivaton world's most famous lecher. It looks like it’s a personal conflict, but since Jin Zixuan already told Wei Wuxian directly that Jin Guangshan wants his amulet, any arguments between them are part of a larger power struggle. 

Cousin Jin Zixun comes running up to start shit. Wei Wuxian pretends--I am SURE he's pretending--not to know who he is. The dude hassles Wei Wuxian every time he sees him; Wei Wuxian is a troll, and right now CJXZ is butting in to something that doesn't concern him. Rather than argue, Wei Wuxian insults him by telling him he’s not memorable.

Jin Furen shows up with several maids and cultivator dudes in tow, which is the proper way for a highborn woman to wander around in the woods. She also brings Clan Leader Yao, because if it's Wei Wuxian Blaming Hours, Yao is going to be there.  

I initially found the deep friendship between superhot Yi Zuyuan and dumpy Jin Furen implausible, but then I remembered that my lifelong bestie is a smokin' hot redhead with impeccable fashion sense, while I am a roly-poly nerd.  Friends don’t always match. Also, Jin Furen's actress, Hu Xiaoting, looks like this: 

...so she is actually hot in real life. Not as hot as Zhang Jingtong (who plays Yu Ziyuan) but literally nobody is as hot as Zhang Jingtong. Don't @ me, you know I'm right.

This is a heck of a long scene, so we’ll pick it up in part two! 

Soundtrack: Livin’ on a Prayer by Bon Jovi

Writing prompt: Newly-divorced, cold-hearted CEO Yu Ziyuan buys an apartment next door to newly-divorced, warm-hearted pastry chef ...uhh let's call her Jin Dàngāo (蛋糕), sure. She can name her business after herself. 

They discover their daughter & son are in the same college class, and so they meet up over coffee....several times...trying to matchmake their hopeless, hapless kids, while bonding over their own terrible (former) taste in husbands. Who will Cupid strike first, the kids or the moms?

[cuppakyle]

Hello MCYT fans, here I am again, with a new ‘complete’ lore post about the weapin designs above!

all the lore bellow the cut and thank ya’ll for the support over the last few months:

Techno:

Sword:

So for techno it was about lightness, it's a thin sword made out of diamond with gold designs and a neatly wrapped leather and pearl handle. It's a very long sword that hangs on his waist.  He doesn't use it much as a king has other people to do the dirty work for him. But when he does need to use it  it's all about swiftness, it has to be light but incredibly sharp to work quick and efficiently. No need to get his hands dirty, he has potatoes to farm.

Trident:

a beautifully used trident, one found by the legendary warrior philza, a saying carved in it for protection a meaningful gold plate placed on it before it was given to techno as a gift of thanks for always protecting those two need it. the red wrapping a gift from tommy. a red piece of cloth from an old jacket to always remember him and the gold chain made by wilbur as a token of kindness.

Axe:

the axe of peace, many that have heard of it think the weapon was forged by the famed awesamdude, they hear of the strong, powerful and scrap weapon that can take down army’s and think only a man of his skill could have forged it but in reality it’s a broken ace, used, worn made by the pig king himself on an adventure long ago, it is forged badly, pieces taken from different weapons he had found. stil stong but not because of the weapon but because of the man that wields it.

Wilbur:

Dagger:

A dagger made from iron with gold lettering a messily wrapped leather handle and a delicate music note hanger. Wilbur isn't one for fighting he's a talker he doesn't need a big sword to intimidate his enemies so it's not used much but it's always by his side.  The dagger itself was given to him by techno as a gift when he noticed his friend didn't have anything to defend himself. Wilbur uses it mostly for cutting food or to look at his reflection but he treasures the dagger and uses it when necessary.

Philza:

Sword:

A netherite sword with an obsidian handle and a diamond for detailing which techno gave to him long ago. His sword is incredibly heavy but one of the strongest swords ever made. Not everyone can carry it let alone use it but Phil uses it a lot.  it's his main weapon and he carries it on his back. The sword is one of the most admired weapons there is as it was made expertly and given to philza as a gift of thanks, he treasures the sword but knows it was made to be used and does to beautifully

Tubbo:

Dagger:

So tubbo has two small and used netherite daggers, engraved with little bees. He made them with help from philza himself when he was young, they arn't perfect, the handle on the left dagger is a little loose and the leather on the handles themselves are worn out but they are sharp and loved. created with attention and always by tubbos side

Tommy:

Sword:

His sword is a small but strong sword, thin and easy to conceal, the handle wrapped in a piece of Techno's cloak. It isn't used much but it's always carried, not many know of it.

Calvin:

Sword:

a big and incredibly powerful diamond sword with a heavy iron handle and a piece of old leather wrapped around the handle. a sword with many scars and bumps, taped together in places. for a fighter like calvin the sword doesn't matter, as long as it's sharp. it's not like you'll feel that bump on the left side as it punctures your heart.

Tapl:

Sword:

a golden sword, oddly shaped with an unusual wrapping around the handle. most people are to distracted by the sword to watch the man, which might just be the reason the fighter once bought it at a market. he was still young but he seemed to understand why he wanted that sword so specifically, now, so many years later the sword is worn with pride and whenever someone asks it's origins or the reason for the odd shape a different story is told.

xNestorio:

Bow:

an extraordinarily beautiful iron bow with netherite tips for the arrows, not one crack, not one bump all you can see when you inspect the bow is the intricate drawings carved into the iron, nestor will only react with a small smile if you ask what they mean the bow itself is so silent it's almost useless, why would you ever need a bow so silent, he uses it all the time, how is it in such pristine condition, so many questions but the mysterious archer won't answer any of them.

Nihachu:

Sword:

a beautifully crafted diamond sword with a gold handle. the detailing on the sword is matched by no other, the swiftness beautiful. most see a pretty young girl carry a pretty shiny sword and think nothing of her. before they know it the sword is at their neck big and strong and they blurt all their secrets out or they don't even see the sword before they leave the mortal world. no one even dares to say a bad word against her friends in fear of the sword and the woman that wields it

Eret:

Sword:

a golden sword, light, swift, unused. he is not a man to use brute strength to accomplish his goals but even the sight of the sword fears enough men to stop their insults. the ruby on the hilt was once found by tubbo on one of his adventures, he came back smiling and offered it to eret. not a day later did the ruby adorn the beautiful sword. the ruby is never dirty, the sword might have stains and might break but the ruby itself will never show ago.

Fundy:

Axe:

a basic iron axe in almost every way, not specifically sharp, a little to heavy for the young fox and maybe a bit to blunt but this axe doesn't need to be sharp to hurt.  touch it even slight by any part but the rubber handle and a surge of electricity will end any hopes of a long life. fundy doesn't always carry it, why should he but when it's needed its carried on his back, proud and strong

Skeppy:

Sword:

a smaller diamond sword, one shinier then maybe needed. a sword with a history, given to skeppy when he was young by is kind father, one with a family history longer then most countries. during all those years only two things have changed. the leather wrap around the handle and the netherite scrap the wrap a piece of the badboyhalo's famous cloak given to skeppy when they first met and the scrap given by technoblade as thanks. the sword is loved and always by skeppy's side, both the additions loved by the fighter.

Badboyhalo:

Sword:

a delicate netherite sword made for the fighter by a legendary sword smith, when it was made for bad he insisted on the diamond in the handle, a diamond given by skeppy and the muffin at the base of the sword. when the sword was given to the fighter something happened that has never been seen before or after, a dark mist appeared when it was touched, it took over the sword like a cloak. when bad leaves it its normal, when he takes it the mist takes over. it seems to have a strange power that has never been explained, when an enemy get touched by the mist their skin burns like a coal touched it. bad doesn't use the sword much but its always polished and sharp ready when needed.

Sapnap:

Sword:

a basic iron sword, not one that is very special when sapnap first bought it. no one knows what exactly he did with the sword that day but when the people saw the sword again it had a permanent smokey stain on it as if it's constantly burning from the inside.

Dream:

Axe:

a heavy and incredibly powerful netherite axe, in itself so powerful it couldnt be used by any man, the power needed just to hold it enough to scare any man but the eye on the top of the axe is what makes most run away at the sight the eye held at the top by a gold handle. the eye taken from a legendary ender man. not many have seen one let alone slain it and taken its eye not for the potions but just for decoration, just to show off you can.

George:

Sword:

A delicate diamond sword with gold and silver handle. the sword known to be from a historic house, a sword that every one of that family has with them at all time, only small details able to keep them apart. the power of just holding the sword is enough to frighten most.

Fruitberries:

Sword:

 a beautiful sword, one of the most elegant and smoothest swords in the land, light like a feather, made out of pure emeralds so sharp you could cut yourself by just looking at it. It's always in pristine condition worn at fruit's side with pride but don't underestimate it's beauty, don't get distracted by the way the sun reflects onto it as it swings your way

Quig:

Axe:

 a long axe, smooth and weightless, beaten and used, over time engraved with the gold he was given for his jobs. a purple stained piece of cloth wrapped for a handle. the axe recognized by all, worn at the fighters back, always in reach.

Illumina:

Daggers:

two netherite daggers, simple at first sight but when you look closer enchanted but...not intentional, it has some glow, like it ate the magic. was it because of all the dragons he had slaughtered, had the magic been sucked up or maybe it was just a trick of the light

Captain Sparklez:

Dagger:

a basic iron dagger, old used prepared to many times to count. a red wrap around the handle and part of the blade. on a part of the wrap a white checkers design was painted most think the design strangly resembles the cloak an old king from a time long past wore 

DanTDM:

Sword:

a beautifully intricate diamond sword, every once in a while it changed, little changes, big changes, doesn’t matter it’s always changing, evolving no one really knows how he does it but it doesn’t matter, the kids on the square always get exited when the travelling scientist from far off lands wanders into town again, they want to see what he did to the sword this time!

AntVenom:

Sword:

a solid golden sword, heavy, shiny, beautiful. adorned with the recognizable purple stone in the knife itself. the sword itself isn’t to interesting, not to beautiful, not to strong, not to sharp, not to broken but when the man wears it it becomes beautiful, strong, powerful, next to the black jacket the adventurer always wears it shines, no one knows how that exactly works maybe it’s just a trick of the light.

Schlatt:

Sword:

a sword stone longer then anyone would need, thicker then is usefull and blunter than your butter knife. every enchantment has been trown on it, it is never used, it just hangs above schlatt’s desk in his office, never taken care of, dusty and broken. it hangs there as intimidation, no one who has seen it has been intimidated by it’s presence.

Punz:

Dagger:

a delicately beautiful gold and iron dagger, bigger then most, maybe a bit weird to have that size of a sword with you but punz is not one to fight all the time, he does not care for your boring squabbling he does what he wants and if he needs to use violence sure...he will and he will be proficient in it too.

Seapeekay:

Gun:

a....what do they call it again? a strong weapon, something most don’t recognize, brought from far away lands, not many have seen how it works but it hangs on cpk’s side at all times, cleaning in the sunlight either because if the golden engraved barrel or the golden chain that adores it at all times.

HBomb:

Handaxes

two small netherite daggers, can be worn on his back, can be worn on a belt. easy to handle, incredibly strong and useful which is something a man like hbomb finds most important. three gold coins that were won during the most prestigious tournament in the land are pressed into the iron axe handle that holds the netherite blades and wood holds that, that way it can always be exchanged for either a stronger handle or possibly another coin.

Quackity:

Handaxes:

handmade handaxes, small usefull but not to well made but that doesn’t matter to quackity they work, he can trow them, he canslice them and most importantly they aren’t annoying to carry,  small golden Q’s adorn the blades themselves and pieces of cloth are wrapped around the handles both pieces of cloth he has had forever

Captain Puffy:

Sword: 

a beautifully taken care of cutlass made out of diamond and gold with wool wrapped around the handle. proudly worn around her side, the cutlass itself found in a big buried treasure she found years ago, over the years the wool was added and the small cp engraved

Antfrost:

Dagger:

a rare knife, when seen in gold like this one it has historically only been used as a ceremonial dagger given to kings out of respect. this one was given to ant by dream engraved with a small paw and an A to represent the loyal warrior.  the knife is only useful in close combat and is used like an extension of an arm, the way of this knife is not taken up easily and ant is one of the few to truly understand it’s usefulness.

Awesamdude

Dagger:

half a wrench and half a dagger, used for simplicity’s sake, strong, usefull, always by sam’s side, you never know when either side is needed

Hammer:

one of the strongest and biggest weapons in the realm, ofcourse the blacksmith would put so much craftmanship into his own weapon, a beauty with gold and enchantment engravings, heavy, so heavy not many can carry it but awesamdude always has it with him, carries it as if it weighs nothing

Krinios

Axe:

a broken decorated axe that the cyclops found many years ago, it’s not clear if the axe was broken when it was found and he has never been clear about the origins of the many to fitting decorations, most think it was given to him decorated and whole but it somehow broke in the cyclop’s posession many many years ago

ScottSmajor

Dagger:

a beautifully decorated dagger with a flamingo head. the man never uses it, it’s with him as a decoration, used for ceremonies and maybe to cut off a loose thread or two as scott is not known for his violence but his advisory role at the court and so, does not need violence to achieve his goals

Shubble:

Dagger:

a netherite and iron dagger, strong, decorative, beautiful, delecate and powerful just like the woman that wields it, she is not one to use it often, she has other ways to get what she wants

[botwstoriesandsuch]

How to Play as Teba AKA Birb Favouritism By Kip

This was too big to fit in an ask so here ya go anon!

A handsombe birb with a bow and a little patience, constantly in a power squat with enough spite to rival Ganon: Here’s your guide to the best main in Age of Calamity 

Teba is so good he’s so fast and so quick like omfg holy shit those strong attack damage output fucking crowd control AND is faster than Revali and pretty much everyone else at breaking weak point gauges like holy FUCK man So don’t let the chaotic attacks fool you! 

Considering you are here and asking yourself: How the fuck do I play as birb dad? You’ve probably encountered one of two problems that prevent you from taking advantage of him. 1) wth are these attacks is he even doing damage to this moblin??? I can’t comprehend these combos because I don’t know what is going on plz I just want to shoot arrows or 2) Where the fuck IS he I can’t fucking SEE anything?!?! where did he GO I’m getting motion sick

Well friend, here I am to help you with both of those problems to help you 1) Understand what the fuck is going on and 2) Find out where the fuck he came from, and where the fuck he go, cotton eye joe

His Y stream is straight forward, quite literally. You’ll notice very quickly that his attacks move his character forward, rather than being more still and stationary like Revali or Zelda(slate). I’m pretty sure his Y stream (as in, a pure Y combo with no X/strong attacks) has the furthest distance in the game, perhaps rivaled only by Riju. So basically, save your big Y combos for crowd control and NOT bosses like Moblins and the such. You don’t want to move your directional input too much, since his attacks have incredible distance and range already.

Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y: Sweep left, sweep right, charge forward, mid-air arrows forward, stomp land, large spiral forward, flash stomp to ground, to an ending backflip. 

You can see the distance here, again, with no directional input at all. Just pressing Y.

So just remember that even though the attack looks very chaotic, it’s really just a big fat straight line. 

In all honesty though, you could forget about his Y stream all together. Any benefit to them is basically trumped by his different combos which are superior in both one-on-one battles, and crowd control. 

Technically on it’s own, Teba’s combos are just good. He’s got a wind stream here and a loop twirl there. But what makes his combos arguably one of the most powerful in the game, is this ability here

This is pretty much the single handedly the most powerful perk Teba has, and it’s not even his Unique Action! It’s slightly similar to Link’s additional X action, but better in everyway. One of the draw backs of many strong attack combos are the slower speed it takes to dish it out, but this perk basically makes that draw back obsolete. It not only gives you insane additional damage, but also doubles, if not triples the length of a combo. Not to mention that half his move set is in mid-air, so the longer your combo is, the more time you’re off the ground and not taking damage. Basically, this equals fast damage for as long a length of time as you want. So! Onto the specifics

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Y-X: Wind Stream. Functions essentially the same as a Y5 (spiral forward) combo, except slower. Its strength, however, lies in your additional X input, which puts you in mid air and allows you to do what I like to call an

Additional X: Arrow Pivot. You’ll know when you do it when the “Press X repeatedly” option comes up. And the end of his wind stream, Teba flies into the air and, with directional input, fires a barrage of and enemies below him up to a 360 degree movement. Final shot will be of a bomb arrow dealing additional AOE damage. You can spam the arrows for around 4 seconds in midair before it forces the bomb arrow finisher, but you can force it early by not pressing X or pressing B. In fact, for all future additional X inputs (I’ll be shortening that to AXs from now on) you can stop anytime you want but just pressing B to hover in the air. All his combos have the ability to lead into mid-air state, which can let you ride the wind and do more damage, but I’m getting ahead of myself. 

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Y-Y-X: Bomb Arrows. Teba sweeps left to right before launching into the air to fire seven bomb arrows (with his LEGS BY THE WAY) in a wide area in front of him. Deals AOE damage, of course.

AX: Instead of immediately going to bomb arrows, Teba will rapidly fire normal arrows (at your X mashing input) and can (optionally) fly forward while doing so at your directional control. This is honestly his best combo in my opinion because it not only is the best for crowd control, but is also one of the quickest ways to deplete any weak point gauges. Just remember to keep him stationary and not fly forward if you’re doing one-on-one, as you might just accidentally fly away from your enemy 

= = = = = = = = = = 

Y-Y-Y-X: Wind Bomb. Not to be confused with the speed running strategy Teba hovers in mid air and fires one massive stream of wind with a bomb arrow. It’s trail also does damage and drags enemies. Deals a LOT of damage, I believe it’s his strongest?

AX: Instead of immediately firing the wind bomb, he will fire normal arrows, but still enhanced with the wind effect. You can control the direction of any of the arrows with the controller. The finisher will be the wind bomb. While this combo deals a LOT of damage (like two normal arrow streams can take out a solid chunk of weak point gauge) It’s the slowest attack in his arsenal. There’s a larger time between each arrow strike, and if you use the full AX combo it keeps him hovering in the air for like 5 seconds, which leaves Teba pretty vulnerable. If you’re using this attack, don’t bother waiting for the wind bomb finisher and end the attack early. So while it’s technically Teba’s “strongest” in terms of damage, I wouldn’t call it his best

= = = = = = = = = = 

Y-Y-Y-Y-X: The Teba Tornado. Ok THIS is the move that has been ridiculed to death because of how chaotic it is. Teba basically swirls around in a circle and sucks any enemies into his little tornado, and then finishes with a gust of wind upwards

AX: Extends the time of the Teba Tornado, and control it’s direction, lasts for about 9-10 tornado swirls. 

DO NOT and I repeat DO NOT LOCK ONTO AN ENEMY WITH THIS MOVE. You will DIE of motion sickness, probably. Ok I mean, you could lock onto an enemy, but that’s not what this move is for. It’s intent is for gathering huge swarms of enemies into one place. The camera zooms out for a reason! It’s great for crowd control, but terrible for one-on-one. Control the movement of the tornado by moving based on the “eye” of the tornado, and not based on where Teba’s character actually is. I still stand by the fact that YYAX combo is superior, as it has better control and is much faster, but hey, this move aint all that bad once you learn how to use it

= = = = = = = = = = 

Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-X and Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-X: Arrow Strike. This is the only combo that forces you into the AX “Press X repeatedly” state. Teba does his little Y stream thing, before launching high into the air, where you are then given a circle. Move the circle around while rapidly pressing X to fire arrows wherever you choose. Ends with a bomb arrow

Note that this attack will basically make Teba invincible. This is his highest attack, and even mid air attacks won’t reach him in this state. It’s also the longest lasting combo, giving you about 7 seconds to deal as much damage as you wish. Take full advantage of this. Excellent for weak point gauges, but the set up Y attacks do take time, so make sure to use stasis. 

= = = = = = = = = = = 

Dash-Y: Small AOE stomp. Nothing to write home about, not that much damage. Just your average set up for the combos that will actually do damage

= = = = = = = = = = 

Dash-X: Flips over enemies and fires arrows before continuing forward. Honestly looks pretty badass, similar to that backflip Revali does when he was about to assassinate Link. Anyhow, good for when you just want to kill something small but have places to be so it keeps your momentum forward.

= = = = = = = = = = 

X/AX: Fires arrows high into the air. After some time, the arrows will rain back down in front of you in an amount dependent on how badly you mashed X. (Note that the arrows will always land in front of you, so if you shoot off the arrows in one direction, but then turn around in another direction, the arrows will still land in front of Teba) Ends with bomb arrows. Pretty good if you want to stack the damage with a timed combo. Also automatically strikes onto big enemies if you’ve locked onto them. Good for one-on-ones but don’t rely on it solely. 

A really good thing about Teba’s strong combos is that ALL of them are mid-air, meaning you can instantly continue any combo with your aerial attacks. As usual, your aerial combo is just Y-Y-Y-X

= = = = = = = = = = 

Aerial Y: Fires arrows in front of you. You can press Y up to three times before you’re forced into the ground

= = = = = = = = = = 

Aerial X: Teba stomps onto the ground with his talons with the aide of a gust of wind. Deals AOE. 

= = = = = = = = = = 

Special Attack: Teba gives a thumbs up of encouragement before murdering everything in his line of sight. (Damages enemies in a direct line in front of him, plus AOE)

So that’s all of Teba’s attacks. Teba’s combos are really fast with that AX damage. A good stasis plus a barrage of YYX will guarentee you a weak point break, and even if you’re slow on it, just tacking on the aerial combo will definetly break it, or at least deal headshot damage cause again, everything is midair. 

Speaking of stasis, here be the Sheikah Rune set, which is ALSO arguably the best in the game.

Stasis: Upon activation, little crosshairs will appear on your screen. Use the controller or motion controls to highlight as many enemies as you wish, and when you press X to activate, all will be stasised. Not only is this overpowered considering you can stasis as many enemies as you wish, but you also can automatically head into a combo as there is no attack animation that you need to dash cancel out of. It is also the longest lasting stasis in the game. 

Cryonis: ITS A FREE FORCEFIELD! Unlike other characters, this doesn’t spawn a usable cryonis block for you to jump off of (because *stares at Teba’s pretty much pure mid-air move set* he doesn’t need it) but instead, spawns three ice blocks that encircle you. I know that it might seem like you have to position yourself so that you have to wait until the block goes directly in front of you for it to properly counter, but don’t worry. It’ll counter all cryonis weak attacks, (by EXPLODING >:D) even if it looks like an enemy is striking you in the gap between the blocks. 

This is the quickest cryonis spawn in the game, capable of countering enemies even the singular second before they hit you with their cryonis weak attack. But other than countering those ice attacks, doesn’t do anything. Still pretty great though! 

= = = = = = = = = = 

Bombs: Teba gets a fancy Sheikah Bow, launches into mid air, and you can aim with the controller/motion to launch a powerful bomb at an enemy/horde. It is guaranteed to expose an enemy weak point gauge, regardless of whether the enemy is using it’s specific bomb counter attack. Like the Y5X combo, this positions Teba at the highest point in the air, making him immune to damage. SO not only is this a good rune for great damage and countering, it’s also a quick dodge for  if you’re in a lick of trouble. You can move out of this rune into an aerial combo/riding the wind as well. 

= = = = = = = = = = 

Magnesis: eh. It’s there. It counters weapons. It does its job. If your enemies have metal weapons it makes a little magnet storm. I was too lazy to bother getting a group of enemies with metal weapons because I killed them all with one Y sweep and didn’t feel like restarting the level. It’s magnesis. What do ya want from me. Nothings gonna rivals Slate Zelda’s magnesis combo anyhow. 

And last but not least, Unique Action! Teba can charge up his bow with ZR to deal arrow attacks that get stronger the more you charge. There are four stages indicated by a little “ding!” and also the visuals showing wind forming around Teba. 

Charge one: Fires three arrows. Pretty basic, although it has a longer range than a normal attack

= = = = = = = = = = 

Charge two: Fires five arrows, again with a large distance and higher damage than a usual Y attack

= = = = = = = = = = 

Charge three: Fires a LOT of arrows covering 180 degrees in front of Teba. Very good for clearing out crowds if you couldn’t tell

= = = = = = = = = = 

Charge four: Fires 180 degrees of bomb arrows, as well as bomb arrows into the air AS WELL as bombarding the battle field with bomb arrows from above for the next 8-10 seconds or so. 

Charge four is really what you’re looking for, although three isn’t so bad either. But there really is no excuse to not use Charge four because Teba’s Unique Action can charge at any time. So long as you’re holding ZR, whether you’re in the middle of a combo, doing aerials, blocking, running away-- the attack will be charging. And you can hold it for as long as you wish. Charge four is very very very good so always be holding down that ZR and releasing it and recharging and re-releasing. You can’t be damaged by your own explosions and you really have nothing to lose.

SO what now? Well know that you fully understand what my birb dad is capable off, here’s what to stick to. 

If you got a giant horde of bokoblins or something, just us a Y-Y-AX and go ham. It’s like a giant broom that sweeps the battlefield, doing a lot of damage. 

Stasis is your friend and your best friend and your only friend. IF you’re fighting two bosses, it’s in your best interest to use stasis to halt both of them and more. Use stasis during weak point gauges to lengthen your time which, combined with Teba’s AX attack speed, with guarantee you a break pretty much every time you use it

Even if you don’t stasis during a weak point break, stasised enemies are a good enough time to use that YYYX combo as even though it’s more vulnerable and slow as I said, when you have the ability to stasis all of your enemies, it’s as good a time as enemies to deal that big damage.

Don’t use your Charge four on stasised enemies. I mean, you can, but it’s really better for when you’re in the middle fo battle, clearing the battle field, and dealing damage even while you’re dodging. 

Don’t lock onto enemies. It just makes it easier all around. Teba like to move, let the birb move. Don’t limit him to the bird cage of the focused camera movement, it’s just easier for everyone to move the camera manually. You can snap it on and off just to focus if you want. But personal experience says it’s easier just to learn how to move the camera you lazy bum

Bomb rune is very good. It’s a free weak point stun, and a free dodge. Use it

When breaking weak point, just use the YYX combo. Yes, the Y5X is good, but honestly they’ll both get the job done, so might as well do the quicker combo and save Y5X for crowd clearing. Besides, even if your YYX doesn’t immediately clear the guage (becuase you’re SLOW at button mashing for some reason) you can continue with an aerial combo

Ending a combo and letting the final animation fully finish will drop you to the ground. Don’t. Let the final animation finish and then immediately press B, or B cancel before the final attack starts. This is because you suck on the ground cause you’re a bird. Pressing B allows you to automatically go into glide state/”ride the wind”, giving you better time to glide away to safety, or lead into an aerial combo

Your unique action charge attack can be fired even in mid air. Note that weak point smashes, special attacks, and runes will cancel any charges you make

My personal favourite combo for levels are using stasis, YYX sweep for damage, then while stasis is still going, charging and releasing a Charge Four arrow, then finish by setting up a 5YX combo. That pretty much clears all hordes, then just stasis a boss’ gauge, hold ZR while I do a YYX plus aerial, boss is stunned, use the Charge Four arrow, fall back and do some normal X attack or Ys, then finish off with the weak point.

For his seals, I’d say invest in mid-air attack damage, strong attack damage, or attack speed.  

Teba’s final Falcon Bow seal bonuses are:

Midair attack damage (Star)

Damage to foes with status effects (Star) [this is pretty useless ngl]

So I’d say stick with mid-air attack just to get the seal bonus, but don’t put all four as it, as it’ll just waste a seal slot as there’s no bonus for 5 of the same seal. So I say 3 mid-air attack, and 1 strong attack damage. But then again it’s all up for preference! 3 strong attacks plus a single star seal isn’t gonna be a bad match either

Pretty much the most powerful thing about Teba is his ability to smash a weak point pretty much the instant an enemy is down. So use his stasis and combos often. 

Although obvious his general crowd control is pretty great too! He’s jut a really well rounded character that is pretty broken and honestly rivals Impa imo

The more arrows on screen, the more chance that fps may tank...just saying. BUT! It’s not really to a rate that’s that detrimental to the experience of playing as him. Just goes to show how overpower he can be if you push yourself enough

Congrats! You have learned the ways of the bird. Now get out of my face, I’m in the mood to post more Teba gameplay....

[killuaisaprincess]

ocean blues

summary: 

"You're really pretty, Killua."

Killua’s breath is snatched right away from his lungs again as if he's being pushed underwater once more. His sunburned cheeks, pale red in hue, changing like the sunset to bright red, his brilliant blue eyes darting down.

"I-"

He isn't. Not at all. He isn't attractive like Gon. Gon with his bright smile, his little dimples, his dumb hair, that looks way too stupidly good down and wet like this. Pretty. That wasn't a word to describe Killua at all... his vampire pale skin, skin marred with scars, his dumb, stupid hair that always poofs up even when he combs it..

Gon's fingers press into the skin near his cheek, lightly, so careful to not touch where he was burnt by the sun. Sunscreen only helped so much with a complexion as fair as his.

"Killua. I meant what I said earlier. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

♥*♡∞:｡.｡　　｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Geez... for someone so insistent on coming to the beach Gon Freecss was sure taking his sweet ass time.

Killua had ended up situated at the beach house located near the far back of the beach, resting on the wooden porch. It was open to the public, so he had no worries of getting yelled at. Speaking of, boy, was he ever going to yell Gon's ear off when he got here...

The soles of his feet just scrap against the sand, one leg swung over the other, his elbow resting on his knee, his chin against his open palm. He lets out a huge sigh, inhaling the ocean breeze, salty, a little wet, and calming in a way.

His free hand taps at the wood impatiently, blue eyes narrowing. Gon must be packing an entire fucking suitcase of stuff with how long he's taking. All Killua has is was what he has on. A sunhat made of straw, with a beautiful deep royal blue bow in the back, a white tank top and white trunks, and... a white jacket with a neon-bright light blue zipper over the tank top.

All to protect him from the beating sun... and stares...

He wasn't like Gon with his gorgeous skin-kissed skin; he was all sickly and pale looking...

"Killlluuuuuaaaaa!"

Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive. Killua stands up, a hand falling to his hip, glaring holes at the figure approaching. The very easy-to-spot figure with the ridiculous green trunks and turtle floatie hanging around his left arm.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to take so long!"

Gon presses his palms together, closing one eye and attempting to look sorry, too bad he doesn't in the least! Not to Killua...

"Stupiddddd! Next time I'll just ditch you and go someplace else!"

Gon lets out an awkward, nervous laugh stepping up onto the dock, making Killua back up slightly.

"Did you put on sunscreen?"

A strong hand goes to grab his thin pale wrist, his sleeves not reaching quite that far, pink brushing across his cheeks.

Gon peers up at him before staring at his wrist once more, as if he could magically tell if Killua put on sunscreen or not by staring long enough...

Not like he's the same damm color as the thing...

"I don't want you to get hurt. You're so pale."

Geez. Thanks for the obvious observation, Sherlock Holmes. Might as well call him Watson... but his heart picks up in pace for some reason when Gon looks at him with those caramel eyes all full of concern.

"S-shut up! Do you think I'm stupid?"

Killua snatches his hand back, his ears burning as Gon stares dumbly before jumping off the porch, grinning.

"Nope! I guess not!"

Killua stares at him, incredulously going to step down himself before a hand is offered to him.

H-Huh? Did Gon think that was deep? It was like a tiny step down. He just got down on his own perfectly well! What's with this?

He's stuck staring at a row of brilliant pearly whites, all straight minus one canine on the left upper side that sticks further out. It's endearing, like everything about Gon, and how can Killua say no to that smile... it sort of... feels warm. This feeling.

He grasps Gon's offered hand with a puff of air and shy mumbled word of gratitude, stepping down, the warmth of the sand almost scalding hot. He sort of regrets not wearing flip-flops now... how was Gon perfectly okay?

Gon grins, slowly letting go and dashing ahead.

Killua follows. Albeit, very, very slowly.

—

They get closer to the shore of the beach, and turns out the reason Gon was taking so long was that he had been setting up a small nice little resting area. Complete with two umbrellas and two towels. Killua takes his hat off and places it under his towel.

Gon carefully places a book of some sort on top of it, so it doesn't get blown away, saying how it looked really pretty on Killua. Something Killua chooses to ignore. His cheeks flush every color of pink and red in the dictionary, but he just scoffs, looking away with a retort on how Gon's embarrassing. Which he is!

Still, it didn't mean anything. What Gon says that is. He likely says the same thing to his aunt and everyone, really. Killua's isn't special... if only his heart would realize that too and stop pounding so hard.

—

"Killua? Aren't you going to take that off? It'll get wet."

Gon points to his jacket, and Killua's heart stops beating, and he forgets how to breathe.

He can't say no to Gon...

Thin fingers grasp the edges of his jacket with an iron grip, shakily moving down to tug the zipper down, slipping one side off, then the next, letting it drop into the sand.

Shame burns in his chest, across his creased brow, the tilt of his neck down. His neck tinted red, alongside his cheeks and near his sternum. All in shame.

He doesn't want to wait for the comments. A dry chuckle choked past lips.

"Creepy, right?" Black and blue marring his arms, silver-like scars long healed. It was just how it is. He wouldn't learn any other way...

Killua leans down to pick up his jacket, his throat constricting, a lump crawling up and clawing at his throat, fire burning in his eyes, tears building up.

"No!"

...Huh?

Killua refuses to look up, slowly grasping at the cloth.

"I don't think that! At all! I think you're the most pretty thing I've ever seen!"

Killua slowly slips the jacket back on, refusing to look up, chewing on his bottom lip.

You're just saying that.

It's sweet, Gon. Thanks.

"Ah! Well! I mean! It just proves how beautiful and strong you are! On the inside and out!"

A small laugh spills from his lips, his heart skipping a beat.

What a dumbass.

"But not anymore! You don't have to be strong! I mean! 'Cause I'm here!"

Stupid. ...What does that even mean?

Killua looks up, Gon's arms stretched out, a sheepish grin across those childish but strong features. His heart may have skipped a beat again...

If not for how ridiculous Gon looks, saying it all wearing bright-green trunks with a turtle floatie over his arm, a turtle floatie that was clearly manufactured wrong with its beady black eyes and giant head.

Killua bursts out laughing.

—

Gon is already waist-deep in the water by the time Killua reaches the shore of the ocean, staring down at the murky water. The sand squishes between his toes, the waves washing over the tops of his feet. It's cold, but that's not really what bothers him. Below the surface, he catches glimpses of green wavy seaweed. He sucks in a breath, a furrow to his light brows obscured by his curly locks that shift with the movement.

"Killua! What's taking so long?"

Gon's voice draws him from his stupor, looking up to see the dumbass hadn't moved at all, waving his hand to signal Killua.

"Geez! You have no patience, idiot!"

He snaps to play it off, eyeing the seafloor once more, taking a slow step forward, his breath hitching. Blue eyes shifting up to see the progress he has made. Except he's greeted by those warm caramel eyes, golden specks and all, and almost falls back on his ass.

"G-Gon!"

Spluttering, he stumbles back. When had he gotten back over?!

Gon tilts his head, bottom lip jutted out into a pout.

"Welll, you were taking soooooo long! Ah! Plus, I remembered! You don't like slimy things, right?"

Sheesh... he thought Gon only had a pile of bricks for a brain, but the idiot seemed to be pretty perceptive...

"Gon. I'm not scared of a little-AH!"

Gravity is torn from him, and a scream he doesn't want to admit is his escapes from his lips, fingers clawing blindly.

"You're being silly, Kill~u~a! I'll just carry you across!"

He's the one being silly?! Why you...

Ah... carry him...

Reality slowly sets in; he had been clawing at Gon...

Gon... is...

Wading into the water with ease like Killua weighs no more than a feather, a strong arm hooked under his knee, his other hand resting on his back. Humming. God, kill Killua now. Take his heart and plunge it into the sea... his face is on fire, and he can't tell if it's from the sun or Gon... they are basically one and the same.

—

Gon stops his trudge through the water and sand, looking over at the floatie still over his arm and then him... Sheesh, Killua knew this idiot didn't think this through... Killua's fine, though... he can handle a little seaweed. He goes to tell Gon to put him down, but the dumbass has other ideas. He grins, looking over at Killua apologetically.

"Sorry! One sec, Killua!"

"Huh?"

Killua is moved in an instant; he isn't even sure what happened. Just the sudden swirl of the world, the momentum making his head spin. His nose is now almost touching the water. He's over Gon's shoulder.

But... but... this warmth of Gon's hand...

Is. On. His. Ass!

This idiot! Who the hell holds someone over the shoulder by their assets?! He wants to die. His face is burning, and does this idiot even know? Killua can feel him fidgeting around to drop the floatie off.

"Sorry, Killua... I promise that's not what I was aiming for!"

Forgot it! Stop! Don't acknowledge it! This is way worse! He groans, burying his burning face in his hands. Gon sounding sheepish isn't helping how lightheaded he feels either.

"I don't want to drop you now."

Just drop him!

Luckily, he's spared of further embarrassment when Gon swiftly flips him over like he weighs as much as a rag doll, his arm resting under his knees again, the other near his shoulder.

Killua slowly peels his fingers away from his face, refusing to acknowledge the faint pink across Gon's cheeks.

"Up you go!"

Gon gently adjusts his movements, placing Killua up onto the floatie to the best of his given ability.

Killua would be lucky to drown in the water at this point, sinking into the hole in the floatie, his thighs touching the cold water.

God, or should he say, Gon, always has other plans...

He gives Killua a toothy grin, kicking his legs to gain momentum. One hand is placed on each side of the floatie. Killua can only suppress a groan, gritting his teeth and digging his nails into the rubber as Gon starts to move him around on the float with great speed. It's a miracle he doesn't pop the damm thing.

—

The force eventually sends him flying. He's submerged in water with a painful splash, running from his skull to his fingertips and aching in his back. Water runs into his nose, burning, eyes stinging with the salt from the water. It pushes into his lips; the taste is almost as bad as the feel, his limbs pushing against the harsh waves, desperate to reach the surface. A hand snags around his waist before he can collect himself, adjust to the water, and tugs him out.

The air hits his lungs, the light blinding, and his nose still burning. He coughs a few times to dislodge any water from his lungs. Wiping his now wet sleeves over his eyes, slowly tugging his forearm away, staring back at huge concerned puppy dog eyes.

"Killua! Are you okay?"

Killua brings his left arm up, wiping under his nose, sniffing.

"Yeah, I just got water up my nose, don't worry, stupid."

Gon seems to visibly relax, his hand still on Killua's waist, which the younger is desperately trying to ignore.

Gon's other hand touches the water's surface and moves, pausing mid-air for a second. He brushes his fingers near Killua's reddened cheeks, moving up and pushing a wet strand of hair behind the other's ear.

"You're really pretty, Killua."

Killua's breath is snatched right away from his lungs again as if he's being pushed underwater once more. His sunburned cheeks, pale red in hue, changing like the sunset to bright red, his brilliant blue eyes darting down.

"I-"

He isn't. Not at all. He isn't attractive like Gon. Gon with his bright smile, his little dimples, his dumb hair, that looks way too stupidly good down and wet like this. Pretty. That wasn't a word to describe Killua at all... his vampire pale skin, skin marred with scars, his dumb, stupid hair that always poofs up even when he combs it...

Gon's fingers press into the skin near his cheek, lightly, so careful to not touch where he was burnt by the sun. Sunscreen only helped so much with a complexion as fair as his.

"Killua. I meant what I said earlier. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

He darts his eyes up to stare just a second. Determination, endearment, everything was shinning in those eyes of Gon's... his heart starts to pound in his chest, he's afraid Gon might hear it.

Gon leans in unbearably close; he can feel his breath tickling his skin, Gon may be breathing, but he's forgotten how.

Lips brush up against his gently, the taste salty, the feeling warm, lasting only a mere second but washing away all of Killua's anxieties.

Gon beams at him, tugging his hand away slowly, letting his fingers run through Killua's sopped hair.

"Let's go back. I'll carry you again, so you don't have to walk through the seaweed!"

His face burns, and he splashes Gon with water, averting his eyes.

"S-stupid!"

In an endearingly lovable way... but he doesn't think he has to tell Gon that, the teen's grin as bright as the sun in the sky.

Really... he is... stupid.

[queenbirbs]

on this winter night with you | Ethan Ramsey x MC

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Sloane McTavish)

Summary: Ethan attempts to decorate his apartment for Christmas and worries himself into the ground about it, as per usual. 

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: alcohol mention 

Notes: Takes place during book two. Title from Gordon Lightfoot’s “Song for a Winter’s Night.” 

------

“This looks stupid,” he mutters to himself for what might be the fortieth time. 

Still, Ethan can’t resist reaching out and shifting the small pile of presents again. As if another inch to the right will suddenly make them fit in amongst the other decor on his mantle. They should be in their traditional place under the tree, but Jenner nearly consumed an entire bow when he turned his back. And with how much time he wasted watching wrapping tutorials on his phone -- twenty-seven minutes, according to the video length and the amount of times he replayed it -- he doesn’t have the energy to deal with that again. 

Especially when he’s spent so much of the afternoon fighting with the lights. When he pulled them from the dark tomb of his guest bedroom closet, they were wrapped neatly around a divider -- thanks to his dad, who gifted them to him years ago. Somehow, in the short trek to the living room, Ethan managed to tangle them into an incomprehensible mess. 

And there went another sixteen minutes. 

He has studies published in several dozen medical journals; he wrote his own textbook before the age of 27; he’s been the keynote speaker at the North American Diagnostics Conference for two of the past five years. But Ethan doesn’t even want to know how long he struggled with wrapping the lights around the tree, before he realized he could just pull the damn thing away from the corner. After wrestling it back into said corner, he plugged in the cord. Only to find that the lights were set on some bizarre, rapid blinking pattern that he couldn’t seem to switch off. 

There must be a joke out there about a doctor reading a wikiHow article on how to set up a Christmas tree. He sure isn’t laughing, though. Because for all his troubles, his apartment looks like the set of a low-budget holiday special. 

“This looks stupid.”

From the floor, behind the makeshift barricade around the tree, Jenner grunts in agreement. Ethan bites back the sigh that begs to form, figuring that he’s met his quota already. It’s irrational to be nervous about something so trivial -- it’s all tinsel and plastic pine needles, after all. But that’s not counting for what’s at the bottom of the box on the coffee table. Which is why he wants this to be perfect. Which is why he should stop worrying over the decor and see to dinner. 

He’s only gotten to slicing the tomatoes when Jenner races to the front door. 

“--the state with the worst drivers, I swear,” Sloane says to no one in particular as she opens the door. “I read an article about it in The Atlantic.” 

Bundled up in her coat and his scarf, she shakes the snow from her hair. Fat drops of ice plod onto the rug. She bypasses the coat rack and drapes hers across a barstool, then dumps her bag and scarf onto the island, muttering all the while about Massachusetts drivers. Her heels clatter to the floor as she kicks them off and moans in relief. It should be silly that, despite the panic he feels at her early arrival and the slight annoyance at the mess she’s made of the foyer, he’s still hit with that familiar pang of affection for this woman. He likes being on this side of the fence when it comes to their relationship. The side where it’s just the two of them, with no workplace rules or curious onlookers to spy on them. The sex is fantastic, don’t get him wrong, but there’s something thrilling about the domesticity. He certainly wasn’t ever able to say that about his other relationships. 

Now, if he could emit any sort of verbal greeting from where he’s frozen in place at the counter.

“You’re early,” he declares, wincing at the lack of subtlety. 

“Patient transfer went without a hitch. Must’ve been one of those Christmas miracles I hear so much about. So Naveen said I could head out.” 

Sloane pops open the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine. Passing behind him, she gives his hip a quick squeeze before locating the corkscrew. She glances up through the curtain of her hair at him and grins, reading his nervous energy as easily as a book. He’s never been good at hiding much from her which, looking back, was probably for the best. “I texted you.”

“I… you did?” 

Popping the cork, she shoots him another look as she pours them each a glass. He takes his and tries not to seem too eager to have a sip. Reflections on the bottle pull her attention from him and to the odd light show playing in the living room. Ethan watches as she rounds the couch and lets out an amused chuckle.  

“What’s with the textbooks?” 

“Jenner kept trying to eat the ornaments. And the tree skirt. And the tree.”

“Most people get those weird, little fences.”

“I’ll get a ‘weird, little fence’ next year.”

“Don’t. I like it. It’s very…” she tips her head to the side, as if she’s assessing an art piece and not the Great Wall of Oxford University Press, “...you.”

“Thanks. I think.” Coming to stand beside her, he gestures to a plastic storage bin on the coffee table. “I didn’t have a chance to hang the ornaments yet.”

“Good. We can do it together.” Bumping her nose against his arm, she drops a kiss to the fabric there, and then another on his jaw. “After dinner, though, because I’m starving.” 

Leaning down, he hauls her close with his arm around her waist and captures her lips with his own. After a long, long moment, he pulls away and lets them both catch their breath. 

“Me too,” he says, grinning when she rolls her eyes at his antics. 

“Yeah, I got that. C’mon, you take care of the main course and I’ll handle dessert.” 

------

“Isn’t this supposed to accompany dessert?” he questions as he reads the label. 

“Hush. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re both adults with high-stress jobs working on a veritable sinking ship that we’re choosing to go down with.” Sloane ticks off the reasons with her fingers, though she only gets as far as those two before he passes the bottle of Marchese dell’Elsa to her. “And it’s Christmas Eve.”

“You already said that.” 

“Enough backtalk.” She uses her stern voice, but the effect is diminished by the sleeves of his sweater sliding back down over her hands. “It’s time for the best part.” 

Reaching into the plastic bin, she pulls an ornament free from the tissue paper. It’s a green, silk ball, shot through with a gold stitching that’s coming loose. Ethan thinks it’s old enough to be his paternal grandmother’s. A woman he has few memories of, but the ones he has -- orange parquet floors, low, throaty laughs, and the spicy scent of menthol cream -- are fond. Sloane moves over to the tree and settles it near the top.

Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album and the hiss of the gas fireplace accompany them as they make slow work of emptying out the bin. Glittery snowflakes and chipping snowmen hang amongst the cheesy doctor phrases his dad insists on gifting him.  

“Aww look at you,” Sloane drags out the word as he lifts out one of the last ornaments. Crafted from popsicle sticks glued together, the makeshift frame holds a glossy picture of Ethan clutching a first place trophy for the fourth grade science fair. “What was your project?” 

“A lemon volcano.” 

“That’s so cute. Mine was on the different decomposition rates of plastic in fresh versus saltwater.”

“Nobody likes a braggart,” he mumbles, prompting a laugh from her as she snatches the ornament from his hand and hangs it dead center on the tree. 

She turns back to rifle through the bin for any small baubles they may have missed, only for her to lift out a gold key tied with a ribbon. Confusion draws her brows together as she inspects it. Though he despises hyperbole, he can’t deny the near-feeling of his heart in his throat. He gulps down what’s left in his glass and sucks in a breath. Sloane moves to place it on the tree when he reaches out to stop her. 

“No, wait -- it’s… it’s for you,” he manages to stutter out.   

She shifts to face him.

“What?”

“This year has been challenging. Probably the hardest and most grueling in a long time.” Ethan rubs his palm along his jaw, unable to suppress the smile that comes with his next words. “But you -- you made it all worth it. I can’t help but be thankful that I’m here with you, at the end of this awful year. And I know that we don’t know what’s going to happen with the hospital, or where we might be next year, but I don’t really care about any of that right now.” 

And hadn’t that been a revelation, that the career he’d spent a decade dedicating his life to cultivating had fallen to the wayside when it came to his future with Sloane. Because that’s what he wants, at the end of the day, at the end of this mess. “Having you here with me -- I’ve gotten used to it. And I’d like for you to continue being here with me. If you want to, that is.”  

Her green eyes are wide as they flicker from his face to the key and back again. The lights shimmer against the auburn waves that have come loose from her bun. She clears her throat and gives her head a little shake, as if waking herself from a daydream.  

“I -- what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I lied about needing to donate my clothes. I mean, I am still doing that, but the reason wasn’t just for a yuletide cleaning. I was making space. For you to move in with me.” 

He steps forward and settles his hands on her waist, kissing her once on the forehead. The smirk appears on his face, unbidden. “I thought I was being pretty obvious, what with leaving the top drawers empty and moving my suits to the guest closet.”

“I thought you were going to embrace the leather jacket look you picked up in Brazil and expand your wardrobe beyond grandpa sweaters and khakis,” she serves right back.

Ethan rolls his eyes at the dig. 

“Big talk for the thief currently wearing one of these so-called ‘grandpa sweaters.’” 

Sloane snuggles close, right into the space where she fits so well against his chest. Her fingers trace over the key. 

“My answer is yes, by the way.”

The confirmation warms him, right down to the center of his chest. Or maybe a little to the left. Cupping her face, he slides his lips along hers, sighing with content when she deepens the kiss.  

“I’m glad to hear it.”

------

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

Another fic that’s mostly dialogue? Absolutely unheard of from me. Another fic that should’ve been posted in a timely manner? Yet here we are, day after Christmas. Oh well. 

Was the hospital talk vague enough for it to be obvious that I… haven’t exactly finished book 2? I got to chapter 14 and then work hit me like a category five hurricane for two and a half months, so I haven’t gotten a chance to actually play the last few chapters. I’ll get around to them eventually. 

Also: the Atlantic article is fake, though MA did receive the worst driver award back in 2014. As of 2020, Massachusetts was rated as the best for drivers (using data from 2017 through 2019).

Happy holidays and warm wishes to everyone still chugging through this wild, wild year. 

[hyunsracha]

now or never — bang chan

word count: 4.5k

summary: liquid courage lets you jump at your last chance to tell him how you feel.

one.

Han Jisung might just be your least favorite person on the planet. You think this when he leans over your shoulder, your thumbs paused above your phone’s keyboard. Your phone was open to Instagram as you struggled to think of a caption for this particular post. It wasn’t anything special, just a picture of you and Chan at the annual fair over the weekend. The two of you had gone together every year since you were little kids. It was one of your favorite traditions.

“I have an idea.” Jisung took the phone from your hands, his fingers quickly getting to work as you yelled protests at him, “Relax! It’s nothing bad.”

Oh, but it was.

“We look like a couple here?! Jisung, are you serious?” You cried out, yanking the phone back from him and editing the post before anyone (hopefully) saw. The boy next to you cackled. 

“It’s not like anyone would be surprised. Everyone already thinks you’re together.” He nonchalantly shoved fries into his mouth as he spoke. Jisung ate like a pig, but you didn’t complain about it anymore. Last time you did that, he got all up in your ear and started chewing with his mouth open. Disgusting.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Yeah, shut up, Han.” You don’t even flinch when Chan and Changbin take their seats across from you. You could practically sense when one of the three boys was going to appear. Changbin said it was because your friendship was so strong, but in reality, they all wore such strong cologne, you’d be an idiot not to sense them. 

“I literally did nothing and you’re attacking me.” Jisung whined, kicking Chan’s shin under the table. Chan gasped, kicking him back with more force. They would do this for hours if you didn’t stop them.

“Guys-” You started, but you stopped yourself. Jisung deserved to be kicked. 

The four of you were hardly quiet when you were together, so you ate your lunches and talked about your day. Jisung got the chance to tell Chan and Changbin about him spilling folic acid all over his crush in chemistry, which he told you about on the way to your shared history class.

“It was mortifying! He’s never going to want to talk to me again!” He cried, hiding his face behind his hands, “I was even planning on asking him to prom! Now what am I gonna do?” 

Suddenly, everyone’s attention was on Jisung. 

“Prom?” Changbin yelled, his eyes wide.

“Yes?”

“We were supposed to go to that together, you dick!”

“It’s my senior year! I wanted to shoot my shot!”

“Yeah! Senior year! That’s why we were going together!” Changbin shook his head, false disappointment evident on his face.

“Well, since we’re asking people to prom now,” Chan started, folding his hands on the table. He bit his lip, darting his eyes around the room, “Y/N...do you maybe...wanna go to prom with me?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. Your fingers twisted themselves around each other as you pulled your lip between your teeth, willing yourself not to smile like a lovestruck idiot. This was your best friend, asking you to prom as his best friend. You pulled yourself together, heaving a sigh before you replied,

“Yeah, totally. It’s a date.”

“IT’S A DATE? Have I lost my fucking mind?” You fell back onto your bed, staring at your ceiling in disbelief. Jisung cackled from his seat at your desk, obviously very pleased by your choice of words at lunch. He invited himself over to your house, wanting to discuss prom plans with you, but you two were getting nowhere. As soon as you got home, you ran to your room to wallow in your own peril. You remembered how Chan had smiled at you when you accepted his proposal, his eyes managing to sparkle even under the shitty fluorescent lights the cafeteria provided.

“I’ve only been waiting four years for one of you to slip up. I’m glad it was you so we can talk about it. That asshole Chan still hasn’t confessed his undying love for you to me. But I bet he told Changbin. Fucking traitor.” He started to ramble, his eyes drifting across the paintings on the wall, “Hey,” he pointed to one in the corner, “this one is new.”

You nodded, gazing at the painting yourself. You had only hung it up a few days prior. You smiled, remembering the night you painted it. Chris was at your house, taking up all the space on your desk with his laptop, portable keyboard, and hard drive. He was working on a 3RACHA song, like he usually was. You always found those days with Chan so relaxing. The two of you didn’t need words to communicate with each other, you had your art. He would make music and you would paint, and your art would always end up reflecting the other’s. The song he was working on that night, Alchemistry, showed itself in your painting, swirling clouds of grey in a fading sky of purple and black. 

“Since we’re not going as a group anymore, I need to find a way to ask Hyunjin to prom.” Jisung sulked, opening up one of his one thousand notebooks. Jisung was a notebook kinda guy. He wrote every little thought down, just in case something could be used in a future song of his. And if he wanted to find something specific? Get ready for notebooks being tossed at your head as he sifts through every single one because he doesn’t label or organize anything. 

“Write him a song.” You suggested, gaze still trapped in that painting. Now that you were thinking about it, most of the paintings on that wall had something to do with Chan. It was like he had seeped into every corner of your life, including the darkest and most personal ones. 

“That’s your answer for everything I do.”

“Because your songs are good?” Not that you were lying. Your three best friends made up the rap trio 3RACHA. Were you a little bit jealous that they didn’t even ask if you wanted to be part of it? Yes, but you designed their album covers, so you forgive them.

Jisung was silent for a second, pondering your idea. Then he nodded, flipping to an empty page in the neon green notebook. He started scribbling, and you can’t really tell if it’s lyrics or drawings. But you looked away, letting Jisung do his thing. Pulling yourself up from the bed, you made your way to your closet, flinging the doors open with a huff. You scanned the rows of clothing before deciding that you definitely needed to go prom shopping. 

“I need something new, something that screams-”

“Please date me?”

You scoffed, “Han Jisung, you’re going to be the death of me.”

two.

Your room was an absolute disaster. Clothes were strewn everywhere, makeup and hair products settling on every surface. You hardly noticed the mess, you were so...excited? Anxious? You didn’t really know.

It was the big day.

Changbin was laying on your bed, no doubt texting Chan about how dramatic you and Jisung were being. Jisung was three inches away from your mirror, sucking in a breath as he applied a line of dark brown eyeliner. You were on the other side of the room, running your hands through your hair as you decided what to do with it.

“Just leave it how it is, Y/N, who cares that much?”

“I care that much, Changbin!” You huffed, deciding to leave it how it was anyway. 

The only reason Chan wasn’t with you guys is because he was now your date. Jisung had banished him and Hyunjin from the room as soon as you started getting ready, claiming that he wanted your looks to be a surprise.

“I’m giving you guys ten minutes before we leave, alright? I’m getting a fucking drink.”

“Your favorite juice is on the bottom shelf.” You called out as Changbin was leaving the room.

“I know where the juice is!” He shut the door firmly, leaving you and Jisung alone.

“Y/N,” he sighed heavily, having just finished his wing, “I think I’m going to piss myself.”

“That’s a rented tux-”

“I didn’t mean it literally! I’m just...really nervous.”

You nodded, moving from your spot to go comfort the boy, “If it’s any consolation, you look super hot. And I’ll make out with you if Hyunjin doesn’t.”

He laughed, and you could feel the nervous energy around him dissipate a little bit.

Once the two of you were ready, Jisung opened your bedroom door, calling out to the boys below. He linked arms with you before walking out the door and down the stairs slowly.

Chan turned around when he heard movement on the stairs, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. His face turned bright pink as he adjusted his tie. He cleared his throat, extending a hand for you to take, “You look...um...really...n-nice, bunny.”

You breathed out a nervous laugh, feeling your stomach churn at Chan’s nickname for you since you were children, “Thank you. You look...nice, too.”

Jisung unhooked your arms and wandered over to Hyunjin, and you could hear them mumbling soft compliments to each other, both of their faces tinged pink.

The car ride to the school seemed to be the most normal feeling part of the night. You all talked to each other, awkwardness temporarily thrown out the window. You laughed at Jisung’s impressions, trying to avoid the weight of Chan’s hand in yours. It felt nice; right, even. His grip was tight, but in a comforting way. Every once in a while, his thumb would gently graze over your skin, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

Once you got inside the gym, it all changed again. Now, Chan wasn’t just your best friend. He was your date, and you got all dressed up for each other, and everybody was looking at you two. He sent a charming smile your way, half bowing and extending yet another hand for you, “May I have this dance?”

And it was okay again, for a little while. The two of you danced, all worries about keeping face and feelings out of your mind. Your friends joined you for some of the songs, and you finally got to see Hyunjin dance. For months, Jisung would rave about how amazing he was. And you agreed; he certainly deserved his spot as co-president of the dance team. 

An hour or so into the dance, a slightly sweaty Chan pulled you away from the dance floor and over to the refreshments. Confused, you asked, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. I just want some punch.”

“And you had to take me away with you. Felix was just about to throw it back!” You whined, feigning disappointment. In reality, you were kinda glad to be out of the dance circle. High school kids really didn’t understand the concept of personal space when it came to these things. And besides, you wouldn’t mind some alone time with Chan.

“Let’s go outside,” You suggested to him, “we’re both sweaty. We could use some air.”

He nodded, taking your hand again. Pushing open the gymnasium doors, the two of you were met with a cool spring breeze. You sighed, letting your eyes shut for just a moment. In that one moment, Chan’s eyes were trained on you, fondness practically seeping from his pores. He took you to his favorite spot on campus, the music hallway. It was his favorite place to study, and the acoustics were dope, just in case he felt like bursting into song. Jisung did that sometimes.

The two of you sat on the cold cement floor, giggling at each other like little kids. You weren’t worried about what your friends inside the gym would think. You were just thinking about Chan. Chan and his dimpled smile and his sparkly eyes and his calloused but still gentle hands and how he was getting closer and why he was getting closer and - oh, his lips tasted like peach. You always liked peaches. So you kissed him back, because he tasted like peach. Not because you’ve been head over heels for him since the 7th grade. Absolutely not. Although, to be fair, 7th grade you would be absolutely geeked at how good of a kisser Chan was. How those calloused hands still managed to hold your face like it was made of porcelain while he sucked on your bottom lip like he would die without it.

He pulled away first, the popping sound of your lips disconnecting making you blush.

“That was - I - I’m sorry-”

“Sorry for what?”

“I just kissed you!”

“I don’t mind.”

“Oh,” He gaped, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s just that, yanno, I dunno. The prom...energy...got to me...haha.”

You stared at him, running your tongue over your bottom lip, trying to push the feeling of his lips out of your mind. You forced a smile, “Totally! And we...don’t have to mention this to anybody if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah...that would be best...let’s go back to the gym.” He stood and pulled you up with him. How he can stand to still hold your hand after crushing your heart like that, you couldn’t understand. But you let him.

You would always let him.

three.

It only takes two weeks for you to tell someone about the kiss. Granted, you’re drunk. And it’s Jisung. And he’s offended it took so long.

“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“I’m not just anyone, Y/N! Let’s not forget, I told you about my first kiss with Hyunjin when it happened!” He was practically yelling.

“You guys are dating! Chan and I are not dating!” You cried out, your grip on the plastic cup in your hand tightening. You weren’t really sure what was in the cup. Changbin had brought you one of his concoctions, promising to get you fucked up. And you just graduated high school, you deserved it! Thank whatever higher power that Choi Lia’s parents were on route to Canada right now. 

“You guys still aren’t together? That’s so embarrassing.” Jisung hiccuped. He had the lowest alcohol tolerance you had ever seen, and you knew Lee Felix. You smacked his arm, apparently harder than you thought, because he yelped in pain. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. You pouted, staring at the neon green liquid in your cup. Sighing, you downed the rest of it, your face contorting at the awful taste. You figured you needed to be wasted to deal with Jisung’s bitching for the rest of the night. You loved the boy to pieces, but he sure had a mouth on him. 

Seemingly out of thin air, Hyunjin appeared next to Jisung, immediately slinking an arm around the shorter’s waist. Jisung giggled, “Hey, handsome.”

“Don’t do this in front of me.” 

They couldn’t hear you, “I’ve been looking for you all night, babylove. Should’ve guessed I’d find you with Y/N.”

“Was the glittery silver blazer not enough for you to spot him? He looks like New Year’s Eve in May.”

Still ignoring you, Jisung poked Hyunjin’s chest teasingly, “Sounds like you missed me.” He bit down on his lip, and that was the last straw for you. You huffed, making your way to where Changbin was in the kitchen.

“Hey, Y/N! How was the drink?”

“Absolutely horrible. Make me another one.” 

Changbin took the cup from your hands, pouring random amounts of various liquids into it. He handed it to you with a sly smirk, warning you to drink slowly. Not that you ever listened to Changbin. You pulled yourself onto the kitchen counter, sipping on the horrible substance while making conversation. You ignored the dark cloud seeping into your mind while he spoke about college. Chan, Changbin, and Jisung had all made it into the same university, as they had submitted 3RACHA songs with their applications. You weren’t a musician, so you were going to a different university that focused more on your kind of art. It was only two hours away, but that was two hours farther than you had been from them in years. 

“Hey,” You interrupted his tangent, your voice barely above a whisper, “You guys aren’t gonna...forget about me, right?”

His smile dropped, “Of course not. We’re still gonna be best friends, aren’t we? And we’re gonna see each other every weekend, and when we come home for holidays, we’ll be together all the time.” He closed the gap between you two, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. It was awkward positioning, but Changbin’s hugs always made you feel secure. You swallowed your tears, mumbling a shaky, “thank you,” into his ear. 

When he let you go, you quickly finished the rest of the drink and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. Your last drink was starting to hit you, big time. A sudden determination filled your veins, “Hey, Binnie?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you seen Chan lately?”

“He’s probably with Seungmin somewhere.”

You nodded, jumping off the counter and starting your pursuit. It shouldn’t be that hard. How many guys did you know with fried blond hair?

After a few minutes of searching, you found him sitting on the couch with Seungmin like Changbin had said. Seungmin made a joke, and Chan threw his head back as he laughed. God, he was so...stunning. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched him. You felt your determination wither for a second, but you pushed through. This is your last chance, Y/N, you thought to yourself. It’s now or never.

“Can I talk to you?”

A look of alarm crossed Chan’s features as he nodded. He sounded unsure as he spoke, “Yeah, totally. What’s up?”

“I mean,” You glanced at the boy sitting next to him, “alone.”

A soft oh left Chan’s lips as he stood. He nodded to Seungmin before gripping your hand like he’s done so many times before. You could just barely hear Seungmin’s laughing as Chan pulled you away. Wait, you were the one who asked him to talk, why was he dragging you around?

To be honest, Chan didn’t know either. For him, taking your hand and leading you to secret places just seemed...natural to him. He led you up the stairs and into the first room he found. Lia’s room. Lia wouldn’t mind; she was a good friend. He closed the door behind you two, locking it just to be sure. 

“What’s up, bunny?” 

Your heart began to pound in your chest as you sat down on the bed. You sucked in a breath, making eye contact with Chan as you folded your hands, “I’m in love with you.”

He just stared at you, not even blinking. You watched his chest rise and fall with his breaths. An excruciating minute passed, which felt like hours to you, before he made his way across the room and next to you on the bed.

“Y/N…” He had hardly finished saying your name before your heart shattered, “we’re going to different schools next year. You’ll be focusing on your painting and I’ll be producing probably non-stop. I...wouldn’t be a good boyfriend to you.” 

You tried to hold in the tears, you really did, but you were drunk and the boy you’ve been in love with for like 5 years just rejected you and you’re cold. So you couldn’t really help the choked sob that comes from your throat, and you had to restrain yourself from throwing yourself at him for comfort. He started to stutter, “N-No that’s not what I meant! I mean, it is, but don’t cry!” He clasped your shoulders and pulled you to him, allowing your tears to flow freely on his nice black shirt, “Y/N, you know I have feelings for you. I just...won’t be able to be there for you like you need me to. I want to be with you, I really do. It would just end in heartbreak. I would rather still be your best friend and only that than have you hate me as a boyfriend, okay?” 

“I’ll wait for you.” You barely managed to get those words out through your cries.

“No, you won’t. Please don’t. Please move on, bunny.” You removed yourself from his hold, scrunching your nose up to sniffle the tears away.

“Can we just...go to bed?” 

The smile that he gave you in that moment broke your heart again; so sad and sincere.

“Of course.” He laid you down, holding you close enough to hear his heartbeat. He was so warm. 

God, how you wished you could stay like that forever.

four.

Chan couldn’t tell if he was more excited or nervous to see you. Your group hadn’t seen each other as much as you had hoped. At the beginning of the semester, you met up every weekend, excitedly chatting about your new classes and the new people in your lives. But as life continued, it got in the way. You hadn’t seen each other face to face since October, opting for texts and FaceTime sessions instead. And he missed you terribly. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?

He found himself thinking of you often. Even during songwriting sessions with Jisung and Changbin. They laughed at him when his lyrics became sappy, threatening to pull their phones out and text you Chan’s adoration. He regretted what he told you back in May; that he wouldn’t be good to you. 

He sat in the living room of his childhood home, fidgeting in his seat. Changbin was scrolling through channels on the TV, a bored expression on his features. Jisung and Hyunjin were in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for the third time that night.

He couldn’t focus. You were going to knock on that door any moment, your parents in tow, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. Cry? Run into your arms? Fuck, try and kiss you? He stood abruptly, scaring the boy next to him. 

“I-I’ll be right back.” He excused himself, hurrying to lock himself in his bedroom to breathe.

Changbin opened the front door, his eyes lighting up at the sight of one of his best friends, “Y/N!” 

“Is Y/N here?” Jisung yelled from the kitchen, the pitter patter of his feet telling you that he was running your way. Two pairs of arms wrapped around you. They walked you through the door, with Changbin yelling something to your parents about where the other parents were. You felt your mother’s hand on your back, a way for her to tell you that they were going. When the boys finally released you, they noticed one other figure in the room.

“Oh…” Jisung gasped. Changbin just stared, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Um-” You coughed, trying to relive some of the tension, “where’s Chan?”

“In his room.”

You nodded before heading that way, lightly tapping on the door three times, “Channie? It’s Y/N.”

The door swung open, a breath-taking smile on the boy’s face. He wrapped you up in his embrace, swinging you around as he yelled your name.

“How have you been? How are you? Wow, you look so pretty!” His hands cupped your face, lightly dragging his thumbs over your cheekbones. You placed your hands over his, a dull heartbeat in your chest as you watched him speak. 

Chan’s heart was pounding in his chest. He thought you could hear it, and that’s why you were looking at him so...analytically. They’re right here, he thought. You lost your chance last time, but maybe it’s not too late. Now or never, Chan.

“Listen, Y/N…” He sighed, “about what I said after graduation, at that party-”

“No, don’t-”

“Please just let me say this.”

You nodded, allowing him to continue, “I was wrong, okay? I shouldn’t have rejected you like that. I should’ve just...given us a shot. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. You can ask the guys, all my lyrics have been about you, and they’re ridiculously cheesy. I know I told you to move on but...maybe I still have a place in your heart? And...maybe we can...try this?”

You couldn’t breathe. You shook your head, pulling away from him, “Chan, I-” 

Seven months ago, you would’ve jumped for joy at his confession. Taken him into your arms and kissed him until you were dizzy. But now…

“Baby! How long were you gonna wait until you introduced me?”

Chan froze. Baby? Who the hell was calling you baby?

You took a few steps back, glancing over at the boy next to you, “Channie...this is my boyfriend, Minho.”

Boyfriend. You had a...boyfriend. You went and did exactly what he told you to do, but his heart still shattered. But he plastered a smile on his face anyway, shaking Minho’s hand, “I’m Bang Chan. One of Y/N’s best friends. Welcome to her second home.”

And the night continued like that. Your best friends focused their attention entirely on you and Minho. They asked him an endless amount of questions, from where he grew up to his favorite kind of bean. Sometimes, you would notice Jisung or Changbin giving Chan a sympathetic glance, but you ignored it. Minho was a good boyfriend, and you were genuinely happy with him. You didn’t expect your feelings for Chan to leave you so quickly, but distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder.

The five of you spent most of your winter break together. The only day you didn’t see each other was Christmas, which was spent with your families. The next day, you had your own Christmas, like you did every year. 

The hardest day for Chan was New Year’s Eve. You had a party at Changbin’s house, with as many kids from your graduating class as possible. It reminded him of that night after graduation. Jisung still wore that ugly silver blazer, drunk and attached to his boyfriend all night. Changbin still made horrible, hangover inducing nightmare drinks that he persuaded poor college students into drinking. You were drunk again, too. But instead of crying into Chan’s chest like before, you were giggling up a storm with your new boyfriend. Chan watched from afar, jealousy pumping through his veins at the way you draped yourself across his lap, and how he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That should’ve been him.

10 seconds before midnight, he felt sick. Everyone around him was so giddy, so excited for a new start. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from you two. Your hands were locked together, staring into each other’s eyes as you counted down the seconds. The TV at the front of the room screamed, “Happy New Year,” as he watched Minho’s lips crash against yours, a smile evident on both of your faces. He stalked out of the living room, making a beeline for the bar. 

He had to get over you, the way you had so easily gotten over him. And he had to get over you now or never.

[sapphicanarchist]

Actual review of She-Ra Season 5 (with major spoilers)

As you probably know from my timeline, the new season made me incredibly happy, and I loved every second.

However, there are some things I want to pick at (both at the things that I loved, and things that could have been done better)

Firstly, can I just say how much I loved Catra in this season?

I absolutely adored her. I loved her and Glimmer's relationship, I loved her apologizing to Entrapta, I loved every second of it.

However, I don't think she and Bow had an exactly realistic relationship. I don't mind because it gave us such absolute gems like him cooing over her sneeze, and pointing out how adorable her astronaut helmet was. And I loved the Best Friend Squad hugs, because I felt like Catra needed to be showered in love and attention more often.

But it would have been more realistic if she and Bow had a slight talk first. Nothing huge, just a 'I'm sorry for trying to kill you and everyone you love.' And Bow would be like, 'Nah, I trust Adora and Glimmer and they trust you.' Then it could have led into 'Besides, it's so hard staying mad at you with such a cute sneeze/helmet or whatever.' Then she would have bristled, Glimmer and Adora would have laughed. And it would have felt organic.

And the introduction of Melog! Pretty cool. It also made sense for Horde Prime to be defeated by wild magic, as Horde Prime's whole shtick was organized clinical science.

Spinnetossa got more screen time!!!!! They shone this season. They were sorta hinted at previously, and more of a background ship but this season was their absolute best.

I think it was especially heartbreaking how Netossa had to fight her wife on their anniversary. And how she had been looking for her? How her voice broke when she said 'So the only person I can fight... is my own wife.' My heart.

I cried.

I did wish we got to see more of other former background characters. Like: Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio. I missed them this season but hey, we got confirmation that Kyle liked Rogelio (which I totally called, just saying.)

I had some... negative feelings towards Mermista at first because of how she treated Entrapta but that too was incredibly realistic. That's the thing about She-Ra, they allow their characters to be angry. Especially as so much of them had so many reasons to be angry.

And my gay heart could not handle Scorpia and Mermista in Lipstick. I about died and went to heaven.

Shadow Weaver... oh what shall I say about Shadow Weaver. To be fair, I hated her for most of the series, because she is the major reason why Catra was so... damaged. But I think it was nice to see how she treated both characters together, even when they were on the same side. How she told Adora Catra was a distraction, and was trying to manipulate her into getting the code despite the effects. I liked that, because it gave us more insight into her character.

She was a Machiavellian character. She honestly believed she was helping Adora. She believed in what she was saying, and was using Adora (much like she previously used Micah) to get to the goal which she believed was right.

It made so much more sense now, looking at their reactions. Catra always had to protect Adora, not just from Shadow Weaver's abuse but from her ambition. And Adora, pure, sweet Adora was also damaged from this interactions. Shadow Weaver put so much on her, is it such an out-of-character development why she feels everything is her fault and launches at the nearest problem alone and without any regard for her life?

But all that aside, I am not ashamed to admit that I cried when Shadow Weaver died. She had fought for so long, on both sides. I knew her redemption arc had to end there if Catra had any shot at happiness, but at the same time... it was so sad. She sacrificed herself, just after finally given Catra as much closure she had left to give.

She dropped the mask, and we finally saw her face.

Wrong Hordak. I would have happily died for Wrong Hordak. Wrong Hordak was an absolute gem. His innocemce, his willingness to help, his naivety, his existential crisis. Wrong Hordak was my baby and I would totally die for him.

But it was also kind of bittersweet in a way. Because looking at Wrong Hordak, I realised that Hordak was also Wrong Hordak at a point. He had once been cut off completely from the Hive mind, had been as crushed and broken as Wrong Hordak ('I am alone'), and had immediately done, again like Wrong Hordak, what he believed Prime would want.

Let's talk about the ships.

From what I've heard, most people did not see Glimbow coming. Because they had strayed so far into the 'friendzone' it was hard to imagine them coming back from that. And I completely understand, but I also felt they were the best fit for each other.

They understood each other so fully, so completely. I cannot even conceive of anyone who could have come between them. They were It for the other. And the 'I love you's to me were a long time coming.

I think they were a bit overshadowed by the sheer rollercoaster that was Catradora, as they were more soft and sweet but I still loved it. And it was adorable.

Glimtra. Glimtra deserves a special mention because it was amazing this season. It was absolutely amazing.

Seamista. This ship has sailed so many times in my head that I kept forgetting it wasn't actually canon. Only Sea Hawk's annoyingness could break through Prime's control. And the blush at the end? And Mermista admitting she had set a boat on fire? And Sea Hawk's heart eyes after? Gosh, that 'I love you' had to come when it did or else my heart would have exploded already with all the heart eyes they were giving me.

I am kind of sad that Sea Bow wasn't so present in this season, as that was also a ship of mine. But I am very invested and gloriously happy with the endgame ships.

Catradora.

Oh my god Catradora.

Ahem, that kiss? That kiss people?? That kiss destroyed every remaining heterosexuality in my being. That kiss brought me closer to paradise. I screamed at my laptop. My heart did a jig in my chest. I was gloriously happy. I cannot emphasize how happy I was. I don't even have the words... Catra leaving? She will never want me how much I want her? It's not because I like you, while Melog (who we know is attuned to Catra's emotions) jumps all over Adora?? Melog, again, trying to drag her back?

Yes. Such Yes. I loved.

Scorfuma.

Look, I shipped Scorfuma the second she joined the princess alliance and Perfuma blushed. I did not expect how blessed I would be this season. I did not expect the dance, the desperation at which Perfuma tried to pull her back, the trust, the flower left behind, the 'you look... you look great.'

I did not expect how blessed I would be. Because Perfuma really brings out the best in Scorpia. And Scorpia deserves that. Scorpia deserves someone who seeks to raise her up because of her bucketload of insecurity issues.

Spinnetossa.

I have probably talked about Spinetossa before, but they were so domestic and sweet in this season. I can't believe they had to fight each other. I don't think I can go too deeply about it without crying. Because there were/are tears. Their dynamic... how Spinny was Netossa's weakness. The drawings. How Netossa sought out Spinnerella because 'you know I'm not so good with social situations'

That kiss at the end. I just. I sobbed.

And finally...

Entrapdak.

The absolute vindication and validation this season. I want to say suck it, antis but I also don't because I'm trying to be nice. We learn Entrapta went back to the fright zone for the LUVD crystal. We have her bypass all the beautiful tech she is surrounded with to go to the only dormant clone to check if it was Hordak. And the way she offers it up, how her eyes and voice goes soft as she asks if he remembers her. How she just goes straight back after he attacks her, and then we learn that she is keeping a list. She is actively searching for Hordak.

And on Hordak's part... he keeps the crystal. Even after he was wiped, then purified, he remembers Entrapta. He takes multiple chances under Prime's control. He even tries to access his memory while he believes Prime distracted, no matter how dangerous that was. Throughout the season, we keep seeing Hordak react to certain situations, we see his eyes widen when Prime announces their return to Etheria. We see him mirroring Entrapta's emotions when she is captured.

And back to Entrapta. There have been multiple metas about how Entrapta seems to have an aversion to touch, more often using her hair as stand-ins. Well... not around Hordak. She touches him. Whenever she is able to. They meet very few times but each time she is the one to initiate the touch. And the 'your imperfections are beautiful?' I just.

I do wish they had gotten more screen time though, and Horde Prime repossessing him right after Hordak had finally regained control was a bit anticlimatic.

Anyways.

There are also other things in the season that I adored. Like the religous analogies. How very... cult-like the Horde was. The purification rituals, the baptism, how everyone wore white.

Noelle did not hold anything back.

And this season showed it. A masterpiece.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Eight

Ao3,  Masterpost,  C.1   C.2   C.3   C.4   C.5   C.6   C.7

Relationships: queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships.

Second chapter of the night, babe! I’m really going for it with finishing this story!! mostly no italics as is my usual, because tumblr Sucks <3 

Warnings: cursing, brief true-crime talk, sexual innuendo, depressive episodes, crying, LOTS of h/c, mentions of past neglect (ok neglect is a really strong word it isn’t that bad, but, idk what to call it), touch-starvation, honestly though this is a ridiculously fluffy chapter guys. 

Word count: 5,618

In three weeks, Patton and Remus had gone from borderline insomnia to a sleep schedule that could’ve impressed even Logan. 

And in three weeks, neither had spent a single night alone.

The talk they’d had after their first sleepover ended up leaving more of an impact than either had realized. Maybe it should’ve been expected: they were both accustomed to saying exactly what they meant, exactly how they meant it, and any sort of vow to ‘never let go’ couldn’t be used lightly for two creatures like that. 

So, independently, they both decided to be as literal as they could about it. God, were they clingy.

But it worked better than anything. There was less aching, more talking, and if they were feeling better, the whole Mindpalace improved. Something something, the delicate ecosystem of the human mind, blah blah. 

And then it worked too well. 

Neither of them really knew what had happened, or how to feel about it (it might have been sad or strange that neither had ever had anything to compare it to, but if asked, they’d both say that’s what made it so special. They’d be right to say so, of course). It was what they had, together.

It wasn’t romantic- they’d seen romantic, knew it as well as they could, didn’t care for it. But in the end who cared about semantics? It didn’t matter, the reasons why Patton stared after his friend for a little too long, or what was making it so hard for Remus not to kiss his pal smack on the lips every time he smiled. Another thing that didn’t matter was the why in response to how they still hadn’t talked about it, but… Patton and Remus had resolved that as a problem for another time.

What mattered was that it just was.

(And another thing that mattered, a little bit, was the how it had happened, and both of them understood that perfectly well.)

Remus lounged on the floor at the foot of his bed, Patton behind and above him. Patton’s fingers were working steadily through his mess of hair, while the pair half-watched TV. They didn’t agree on most shows, and neither of them were especially crazy about arguing, which meant it was twenty minutes of roundabout conversation until they stumbled across something they could mutually zone out to. Whatever. The system worked.

Remus typically preoccupied himself with drawing, painting, or carving some material into something or other (said something-or-other was almost always a knife or a dildo. Occasionally, it was both). 

Patton seemed to favor being distracted by Remus’ hair, though it wasn’t clear why. Remus hadn’t asked; it felt nice, and he was surprised that anyone would actually want to thread their fingers through those oily strings, so why question a good thing? 

Actually, a better question was why not. The thought had stuck in his mind, and he had nothing better to do- art block and all- so. Remus tossed his sketchbook to the side and twisted up to look at Patton.

“Why do you do that?”

Patton glanced down at him. “Do what?”

Remus reached up, prying Patton’s hands out of his hair and holding them up like evidence. Patton blinked at them, and okay, cute- but he looked genuinely surprised by the question. 

“Oh, playing with your hair? I mean, there’s no real reason, I guess it’s just mindless. Something to fidget with, y’know? It’s always all tangled up, too, so it’s like a little puzzle- a puzzle I probably won’t solve all the way ever, but that’s most puzzles with me to be honest,” he smiled brightly, creasing all his laugh lines just right. “Also, um, it feels nice that I get to stay touching you, even if it’s just something small,” he shrugged, sort of sheepishly. “Is that weird?”

But Remus was beaming up at him, definitely looking all sorts of stupid for it, and definitely not caring. He dropped Patton’s hands, letting them find their way back into his coils and matts of hair. 

“You’re asking the wrong guy, Sugar Cookie, but you can keep messing with my hair all you want. It probably is weird, in that case, because I like that you have your hands on me so much-” Jesus Christ it was so hard not to make a sex joke, Remus had to stifle several from breaking his train of thought. Ugh, the things he did for this man. “-And if I like something, it’s 100% freaky!��

Patton just laughed, his nose scrunching up while he ruffled Remus’ hair. 

“That’s- that’s good to know,” an index finger coiled around silver strands, and Patton’s eyes sparkled in the most literal sense, “Hey, Remus?”

Remus let his head rest on the side’s thigh, humming attentively. 

“When you say I can mess with it…”

He looked up with a delightful anticipation, grinning before Patton had even finished his sentence. 

“Can I braid your hair?” The question accompanied by a faint tug at Remus’ scalp, and the feeling of several tangles coming undone, “I’m pretty good at it. Virgil used to let me do his- not so much anymore, but, um. Anyway, yours would be long enough- or maybe longer, if I got these knots out,” he smiled, kindly, “But I know you like having it knotty, so it’s okay if you don’t want me to.”

Remus thought it over, because yeah, he was very proud of his rat’s nest. Besides, he was sure that even if it got straightened out, it’d still be just as greasy as ever- ohh, but that could be a look all on its own, couldn’t it? Maybe he could even weave some garbage into the plait! 

“Sure!” Remus assented, “The rest of me’s naughty enough to make up for the hairdo, so have at ‘er.”

Patton snorted at the pun, obviously excited to get started. When he ushered Remus to turn around, his hands easily undoing clumps of hair with surprising focus, humming to himself all the while, Remus was absolutely certain he’d made the right choice.

It was done in an hour- Patton was slow and careful about every movement. Remus didn’t really mind, though he’d try to assure Patton that it was fine to do it in a hurry, that he wasn’t so sensitive. (Patton didn’t, obviously, ignoring Remus’ comments about how it didn’t even matter because they weren’t real, and pain was a construct. Patton was stubbornly gentle, to the point that Remus couldn’t be annoyed by it. He might even say it was sweet, if he was feeling particularly sappy.)

It had also taken such time because of the decorations Patton had woven into his hair, which he insisted would be surprises. So Remus was bouncing with excitement all the way to the mirror- cuz even though he was sure it wouldn’t be anything like the live bugs, weeds, and dead flowers that he’d had in mind to thread in there himself, he knew it’d at least be pretty. Pretty wasn’t really his thing, sure, but Patton’s brand of pretty? It had grown on him.

The mirror in Remus’ room was chipped, slick with grime, and filled with silhouettes that vanished as soon as you turned around, but it worked just fine. Remus hauled himself over to it, peered in, and okay, he definitely didn’t mind a little bit of pretty.

“You weren’t fucking around when you said you were good at this, Morey!”

In their reflections, Remus saw Patton smile, going a bit pink around the ears. He glanced back to himself, eyes trailing appreciatively down the shoulder-length braid of dark, greasy hair. His grey streak wasn’t twisted in with the rest of the locks, instead it had been left out in front, springy and curly and giving the whole look a messier vibe. The braid itself seemed inky-slick, shot through with glittering hair clips and pins. At first, they looked like plain plastic jewels, but with closer inspection the shapes of tiny beetles, bugs, and moths were unmistakable. They were gorgeous, and probably a better call than putting actual live bugs in his hair; he was less likely to end up eating the sparkly clips, at any rate.

But if all that wasn’t enough, then there were the ribbons. Whip-thin and several in number, they sparkled with enough course glitter to impress a Las Vegas body paint artist. Some were a pukey neon green, and the rest a light, bright-

“Blue?”

Patton met Remus’ eyes, through the mirror again, and the pink slowly traveled from his ears down to his face. He shrugged, grazing the blue-and-green bow where the braid was tied off with the tips of his fingers. 

“I guess I got a little carried away,” he smiled lightly, “I thought it looked nice, with the green.”

Remus looked away from the glass, “You’re not wrong about that,” he muttered.

Patton shrugged, not quite making his eyes. 

“You can take those ones out, if you want to.”

That- the way Patton went flustered and shy and he’d put his colors on Remus- it gave the Duke a very strong urge to do something. The urge pulled at his chest, feeling like cracked ribs in the best way, and it really wasn’t fucking around when it wrapped around his heart and squeezed so tight it felt like it was forcing all the blood right out of him. 

Remus was used to impulses, and the powerful, mind-halting swells of emotion, but this was new and fun and it had jumped out of nowhere even for him. He was staring at Patton, and he had the urge to do something. He would’ve done it, too, if only he knew what the fuck it was that he wanted. 

It had to do with Patton. He should start there, probably.

“I’m gonna keep them in, duh,” Remus replied, finally, and his voice was way louder than it needed to be, “Wouldn’t wanna fuck up the look.” 

Patton glanced at him, smiling self-consciously, and his hand lowered from Remus’ hair to rest on his shoulder. For a moment Remus felt blind, vision white-out and trouble breathing, from whatever the fuck he was feeling, and he just didn’t know what to do.

Then Patton laughed, his ocean eyes squinted, and the burning impulse plummeted to an ache. A giddy, unfamiliar kind of ache. A manageable ache. 

Remus resolved to forget it. He had lots of instincts, and urges, and God knew that not even half of them made sense. It had left, that was what mattered, and he could enjoy the rest of his day with his friend.

He’d never been the type to worry, anyway.

There were days that Patton just… couldn’t make it out of bed. He tried, he really did, but he could only go for so long before it all started crumbling. He’d wake up, and something would just feel wrong, and he’d know that it was a doomed day, but he still made the stubborn effort to save it. Because each time he thought, maybe he’d beat it, maybe he’d make the best of it- and sometimes he did, but most of the time he made it as far as breakfast, and then he was right back in his room by noon to let the depressive episode take over.

So yeah. It was one of Those Days. 

Patton laid in bed, propped up on pillows and stuffed animals with his unfocused eyes staring just above the television. Bad days had been getting rare, and naively, Patton had thought that meant it was over for good. When he woke up that morning, Remus barely stirring beside him, the empty feeling inside was almost ignorable. 

He’d stayed above it for all of two-and-a-half hours before retreating to his room again, this time on his own.

Patton was always alone when he got in one of his moods, and he knew it was better that way. He was no fun at all, just a sad sack of blah, and he knew just how intolerable he ended up being. He couldn’t even tolerate himself.

So each time Patton would tell the other sides that he needed some space alone, and of course they respected that. Roman always hugged him before he left. Virgil checked on him every now and then. Logan, without fail, sent him extra plushies (and sweet snacks, however much he disapproved of unhealthy eating, because he knew how much sugar cheered Patton up). It didn’t fix the ache, but it helped, knowing that people were worried about him. 

But, back to that particular day; the day that left Patton huddled up at the head of his bed with blank, glazed-over eyes; the first day of its kind since Remus had been staying with him. 

It had gotten… harder, somehow. The fact that it had been gone for so long, and he’d been so optimistic, but now it was all back… 

Patton buried his face in the soft fabric of a teddy bear, shaking and crying and feeling so, so, cold.

It went on for a few horrible, horrible minutes, and then there were noises that definitely weren’t sobs. Down the hall; the slamming of a door, followed by distant muttering, and then excited footsteps. Heavy, clunky footsteps. Sounds that brought back acute deja vu, and had Patton glancing up just in time to realize what was about to happen. 

His door swung open, and Remus was grinning at him from the entrance. Patton struggled to put on a smile in time, scrubbing frantically at his eyes. 

“Hey! It’s, like, two o’clock, are you ready?”

Patton blinked up at him, partially in confusion, partially to try and stop the flow of tears. “Ready…?” 

Remus’ face fell a little, and he came forwards into the room. 

“Yeah…” Remus shut the door behind him- with less force than usual- and sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. He stared intently at Patton, frown deepening all the while, pupils flitting around as he seemed to take in every detail of his friend’s condition. Patton wanted to squirm. “We were gonna- are you okay?” 

He stared dumbly at Remus for a second more, and then it clicked: they had plans today. He could barely remember what they were supposed to do- they’d been talking so quick, so excited, so happy- but Patton was pretty sure it had to do with a new creation of Remus’. 

Which was… something he definitely, definitely didn’t have the energy for. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Patton sat up straight, trying desperately to stop trembling, “I completely forgot, I just- um- I don’t know if I can make it today.”

That sounded bad, didn’t it? Wouldn’t that be the icing on top of the cake, if he hurt Remus’ feelings just because he was wallowing for basically no reason. It probably wouldn’t even be that bad if he sucked it up and went along with it anyway- except Janus kept insisting how bad self-sacrifice was, but- what else was he supposed to do!?

“Oh, it’s okay,” Remus said, not sounding hurt at all. “I’d be more pissed if I thought you were just bailing, and I know you don’t do that, Pat. Plus, you’re obviously upset, so don’t worry about it.”

  Patton glanced up to find him still staring, somehow more intense than before, and much closer than before. He looked- he looked worried. Not upset. Worried. 

“Oh,” Patton looked away again, unable to stand the scrutiny, “Okay.” 

A hand slipped into his, prying open his clenched fist, and he had to stifle a gasp at the touch. Temperature shock, that was the best word for it. Patton shivered. 

“Can I help you?”

Patton’s eyes went wide at the sweet sincerity in Remus’ voice, the way he said it as plainly and openly as he’d say anything else. Even if it wasn’t a big deal, really, with Patton’s emotions in the state that they were, while he was in his room of all places, anything could send him breaking down again.

“I- I don’t, um-” he blinked furiously, had done that a lot since Remus found him; it was beginning to make him feel dizzy. “Nothing’s really wrong…” 

Remus squeezed his hand. 

“Well, what isn’t really wrong?” 

“What?”

“You said nothing’s ‘really’ wrong, so, what’s wrong-but-not-really?”

Patton tipped his head to the side, for a moment more confused than he was aching. “How do you mean?”

But Remus just rolled his eyes- not unkindly- and shrugged. 

“So, you don’t know why you’re all… sad,” the emphasis made Patton wince, “But I figure that being sad at all usually makes other things wrong, too, and I can help with those things! For example-” he pitched forwards suddenly, ruby-reds wide and searching. He sniffed at Patton (probably not for any kind of actual inspection, but it made him laugh, and judging from Remus’ proud little smirk that had been on purpose.) “You had anything to eat? Or, uh, water? Those are supposed to be important.”

Oh, right. That. 

Patton leaned away, pulling his hand out of Remus’ grasp as he flushed abashedly. But he didn’t- well, he wasn’t going to lie to Remus.

“I guess I haven’t, no,” he tried to laugh it off- this didn’t have to be a thing, it didn’t have to be serious, if he kept laughing. If he got Remus to laugh.

But Remus was already standing, and that brought up another very effective solution; if Patton was being depressing, maybe he would just get sick of it and go. 

“Okay, we’ll start there! Wait here, I’ll be back in- ten minutes? Sure, that’s how long it takes to make food,” Remus was muttering half to himself, but it sure as heck didn’t sound like leaving.

“Oh, you don’t have to get me anything!” Patton insisted, because if Remus wasn’t escaping yet, then he wasn’t going to mooch off of his generosity. “Thanks for the reminder, I’ll- I’ll make sure to grab something soon.”

Remus stopped by the door, tipped his head from one side to the other, pretending to think it over.

“Hm. Nah.”

Patton tried to stand, and found that he was somehow too weak for even that much.

“Remus, please, I- I can’t even eat the same stuff as you, anyway! Don’t go through all that trouble for little old me,” he was edging on frantic, and he didn’t know why he was fighting so hard against receiving needed help, but it probably had something to do with Catholicism. 

Remus looked completely bewildered- a funny look, for him- and said:

“I mean, I wasn’t about to feed you hygiene products, or ceramic, or whatever. I know that I eat weird shit, Pat, that’s kind of the point- but I still know how to make a sandwich? And I know how to hold a cup under the sink so that water goes in it?” 

His voice took on a gently mocking tone. Patton glanced away, sheepish, and couldn’t find a response to that beyond a short nod.

Which was all Remus needed as the go-ahead, darting out of the room and down the stairs before Patton could argue any further. 

Patton stared after him, listened to him bustling around downstairs, and tried to feel comforted. He fell back against his pillows, breathing slow and concentrated. He was still shaking, with his previous exhaustion coming back full force. Some of the light-headedness, certainly, had to be due to the lack of eating, but he was unfortunately sure that it wasn’t even the half of it.

Patton was conflicted: He had to tell Remus that he was okay, as soon as he returned. Say thanks for the food, that it had helped, and they could spend time together tomorrow, Patton would promise. Get Remus away before it got bad, before the dam he’d built so carefully behind his eyes fell and the blue of them spilled out for hours. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie about his feelings- he knew it was bad for him, and he couldn’t keep doing it, not to someone’s face. Not somebody he cared about so much.

He wanted to let Remus stay, beg him to stay if he had to, just so he didn’t have to dig up all his long-buried emotions on his own. He wanted to pull him in and beg for help, even though he knew nothing had managed to help him before, and it was so futile. 

When the door opened some ten minutes later, Patton didn’t sit up. He didn’t even look up, scared he’d cry if he so much as moved his eyes in his own skull. 

“Hey.”

The sound of the door shutting, followed by those heavy footsteps. A soft thunk, presumably the plate of food being placed on his bedside table. Then the mattress dipped beside him, springs creaking. 

“Hey,” Remus said again, “Look at me.”

Patton rolled his head tentatively to the side. Remus was sitting with him, looking at him, his expression twisted up and solemn in all the worst ways. Patton felt the dam begin to crumble. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I know, I know that I’m no fun when I’m like this, and we were supposed to have fun today, and I just can’t do it. I can’t, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, but if you stay here when I’m-” he broke, clamping a hand around his mouth as a sob wracked his body.. “When I’m like this, I’m just gonna ruin your day more.”

That sad look, the one that had no place being in Remus’ expression, sharpened and widened until he looked almost angry. He crawled over to Patton, prying the side’s hand away from his face and cupping his cheek, gently, all the while that scowl was in place. 

“Do you want me to go?”

Patton could barely speak, knowing that he’d just blubber and blubber, but Remus was holding him up by the shoulders and peering down at him so patiently, so carefully.

“I- I-”

“Do you want to be alone?”

He couldn’t- he couldn’t keep lying.

Patton sucked in a breath.

“No.”

Remus grinned at him proudly, pulling back until he was kneeling. He spread his arms out, an offering that Patton had become intimately familiar with. Patton pulled himself up, shaking, incredulous despite the familiarity of the situation.

“Then you don’t have to be.”

And Patton pitched forward, right into Remus’ arms, clutching and crying and trembling like a leaf.

Distantly, he knew that he was still babbling apologies. Insisting that the Duke could leave as soon as he wanted, that Patton felt this way so often and he knew he couldn’t possibly expect comfort every time, a million other sentences that ran over and into each other which only seemed to make Remus clutch him tighter. 

“It’s okay,” Remus told him.

“It’s- It’s not, I don’t even have a- a reason to be so-” a hiccup, “- upset. It’s not like last time, when you found me- I don’t even have a bad excuse, I’m just- just-”

“Shut the fuck up,” somehow, even that sounded caring. “Somebody as Hello Kitty Wholesome as you’s got no business saying such bad shit about himself.”

Patton tried to apologize again. 

“Easy, Sugar, I’ve got you.”

Patton shuddered.

“When it gets bad like this, just tell me, alright?” Remus’ hands traced up and down his spine, across his shoulder blades, down his sides, warm and full and adoring. The smile in his voice was audible, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

And when Patton heard that, it was like a broken bone being set. Not fully mended, but held together enough that it could begin to heal the right way, of its own hard work, and come back twice as strong still. Remus held him so strong and it felt like a cast. 

Patton’s breakdowns were blurred memories at best, but he couldn’t have gotten that promise out of his head even if he wanted to. 

It was an achingly uneventful afternoon. Everything in the Mindpalace felt just a little out of focus, a little gray, and nothing much was going to change that except the day ending. Plain and simple, Thomas was Out Of It- and so, of course, were his sides.

On the whole it wasn’t a big deal, but it did make it downright impossible to finish any substantial work beyond menial, autopilot tasks. And creativity? Particularly for Remus, who more-or-less needed his human at full attention in order to have any creative power, it was totally hopeless. 

He wasn’t the kind of guy to work on half-power, to put it mildly. 

So, what did Remus do, when he had even less of an outlet than usual? It shouldn’t surprise you that the answer is literally anything, if it got people to pay attention to him and make him feel real again (which he wasn’t, actually, but let’s leave the semantics to Logan). What that usually amounted to- these days, at least- was talking, and talking, and more talking, and eventually somebody would probably react to something he said. Ideally. 

So on that particular gray-day, Remus sprawled himself out on the couch and waited for the first person who came by to trap in a very one-sided conversation. 

Said first person was Patton, as it happened, which was just Remus’ luck. He didn’t bother hiding how excited he was about it; Patton had always been his favorite target- of course, it was for a very, very different reason nowadays. 

Patton sat down with him as soon as he was waved over, propping a coloring book open on his knee and smiling warmly. His unoccupied hand went to wind through Remus’ hair, though, to make it abundantly obvious that despite his distraction he wasn’t ignoring the other.

Remus grinned at him, and started rambling immediately. 

And he- well, he wouldn’t really call it talking to himself, because he didn’t have a fucking clue what he was saying. But he wasn’t talking to Patton either, because that kinda defeats the purpose of a one-sided conversation. 

Which he didn’t mind. He wasn’t even listening to himself, he just needed to talk, and Patton wasn’t complaining. Remus was probably saying something unsavory, and still, there wasn’t any kind of flinching or interrupting. Patton even mhm’d and yeah’d every now and then, which was an entirely unnecessary reassurance. But Remus thought it was adorably considerate, and briefly entertained the idea of replacing that sweet little coloring book in Patton’s lap with his own self, to get some proper attention. 

(He would have, too, if he wasn’t so sure that he’d blurt out something very lewd in his stream-of-consciousness kind of mood, with a position like that, and he wasn’t sure if Patton could handle it at the moment. Morality always got a little out of whack on gray-days, too, so- loathe as Remus was to say it- better safe than sorry). 

Remus fell into the rhythm of it for, what, twenty minutes? He was bad with time, but- all he knew was he was thinking about Albert Fish, and talking about an entirely different serial killer out loud (Gacy? Bundy? It was definitely someone infamous), when the hand in his hair suddenly stilled. Patton wasn’t looking at him, either.

Remus glanced around, still talking, to find Logan standing in the kitchen doorway, staring expectantly at Patton. 

“I need you to accompany me outside for a moment. There’s something important that we-”

Patton cut him off with a wave, “Hang on for a second, Teach.” 

Logan obliged, looking bemused, and Patton turned his attention back to the still-tangenting Remus. Who was totally checked out, for the record. 

“Hey,” Patton rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly, “Pause?”

And Remus, surprised, did as asked. He didn’t care about what was going on around him, but he liked that smile, and the eyes focused in on him, so he sat up properly and tried to be quiet. Especially considering those were the first actual words Patton had said to him since he’d sat down. 

“I’m gonna go see what they need real quick,” Patton went on, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and you can finish telling me about Dennis Rader then-” So that was who! “Kay?” 

Remus stared mutely at him for an embarrassing number of seconds. He eventually managed a short nod, some vague utterances of yeah, sure, go ahead, before Patton was out the door with Logan, and he was left reeling on the couch. 

Remus felt a little bit like worms had eaten holes in his brain like swiss cheese, leaving him airy-headed and dizzy. All his organs felt wormy, in fact- squirming and sick and excited about something that really shouldn’t have been a big deal- but! It was!!!

Cuz Patton had been listening? Remus wasn’t even listening! He was probably barely coherent, and he’d been at it for twenty fucking minutes, and- and-

God! He just wanted to grab that stupid adorable head of Patton’s and! He didn’t even know! Do Something, something disgusting in the nice way, something deplorably PG and lovey-dovey and- Ugh! 

Remus buried his face in his hands and groaned. He felt like a goddamn schoolgirl- and not the hentai kind, for a change, but the hopelessly infatuated, cutesy type. Feelings that were gushy, giddy, affectionately bloody. 

It was the straw that broke the camel's spine. Urges and instincts and wants that Remus hadn’t been able to name coalesced into a neon sign in his mind, flaring the answer like it’d been obvious the whole time:

Was it a crush? Remus didn’t know a better word for it, even if it wasn’t- he just knew that he was pining, and for somebody he was happy to call his friend either way. And, huh. Weird. He didn’t know he could do that. 

“I’m back, I’m back!” Patton came scrambling back into the room, jolting Remus out of his thoughts, “Sorry about that, it was- well, it’s not a big deal, something happened with The Memories and- it’s fine now- anyway, what were you saying?”

He was chattering fast, even by Remus’ Standards, an apologetic smile on his face as he sat down and settled all his attention on the Duke. 

Remus said: “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” and wondered if he’d always been that shrill? Or was he being too quiet? What did his voice sound like again?? “I, uh, I don’t remember what I was talking about.”

Patton frowned at him, and looked about ready to apologize again, and he couldn’t very well have that. So, he babbled:

“Right, it was Rader? Um. Yeah,” but that was so far out of his mind by that point, and how did people ever talk while saying things and thinking other things! “Not much to say, ya know. Killed some people, got arrested, the usual.”

“Since when don’t you give me the graphic details?” Patton complained, “That’s your favorite part!” 

“I think I’ll spare you the nightmares this time, Morey! It’s, uhm, it’s your turn to talk.” 

“Oh, hush,” and Patton laughed, shooting Remus an encouraging, coaxing smile that made him just want to debone himself. “Those serial killer stories you like so much aren’t the nightmare fuel they used to be. You know why?”

Remus felt like the inside of his skin was full of spikes. Not in a bad way. 

“...Why?” 

“Because,” Patton said, like he was all too eager to explain himself, “I can’t really be scared of them when the scariest thing is what’s in bed with me.”

Remus flushed. Like, actually-  heat crawled across his face and over his ears, and he honestly had no clue the last time something or someone had made him blush. But Patton, acknowledging his scare-factor while somehow making it obvious he felt only safe with him, was apparently what ticked that box. 

“Right,” chirped Remus, “That’s- me!”

“Of course it is, Silly,” Patton bumped their shoulders together, smiling like he had no idea what he was doing- and to be honest, he probably didn’t.

Remus drank in the contact, happily using it as an excuse to wrap his arms around Patton and pull him closer. He buried his face in Patton’s shoulder, because as far as his impulses told him, he should either get the fuck away A.S.A.P. or drag Patton in as close as possible and not let go. Obviously, Remus had a preference. 

“You- uh- I was being serious though,” ugh, God, stuttering was so goddamn annoying- how did Virgil cope? “You should talk. I’m- I’m sorta overwhelmed.”

That was the truth, or part of it. Admitting it out loud at least managed to take some of the power out of it.

Patton immediately cooed at him- it should have been annoying; it wasn’t- and wrapped him up in his arms properly, muttering little of courses and do you need anything?s. Remus melted into him, finally claiming that spot in his lap (and any jokes his mind might have had about that were long gone, by then), shaking his head and glowing under the attention. 

Of course Patton was happy- after making sure that Remus was alright- to do some of the talking. He talked about his day, what he wanted to do later, or tomorrow, and of cute things that he’d seen, and a hundred other inconsequential Patton-isms. 

Remus was unused to sitting and listening, but with him… it wasn’t as bad as the Duke remembered it being. 

Oh, he was so fucking fucked. 

Chapter Nine

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @donnieluvsthings @glitter-skeleton-uwu @intruxiety @gayformlessblob @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @thefivecalls

[taeswurld]

Ace VII [8 fucking 30]

pairing: bakugo x fem!reader

genre: humor, romance

TW: violence, cursing, angst, fluff

Summary:

Shifting into My Hero was a total mistake, all those tiktoks you watched on a daily about shifting somehow convinced your brain to take part. Now the question is how to wake up, and most importantly, DON’T GET ATTACHED TO STUPID DRAWINGS!

A/N:

Yuhhhhh i made a new chapter. Reblog and like for clear skin hotties! 

{ACE MASTERLIST}

Once you finished resting up, and once everyone cleaned up their appearance, you all decided to pay a visit to a certain superhero to see if they could help you figure out your little problem.

Well, not little problem. Big problem. Very big problem. 

“Hey Y/N,” Midoriya began as he walked besides you and Hiro. “Do you by any chance remember All Might? Or Mr. Aizawa?” 

You shook your head and looked down. “Sorry Midoriya, I don't really remember anything. I mean, the names sound familiar, but I can't exactly put faces to them. All my memories are blobby.” 

“What the fuck does blobby mean?” Bakugou asked as he stomped behind you. 

“You don’t know what blobby means, Bakugou?” You asked as a smirk covered your face. “Come on dude, catch up with the lingo.” 

“Shut up! No one know what you and your stupid vocabulary means half the time anyways. You always sprouting some stupid shit.” He scowled. 

“Yeah Bakugou,” Todoroki grinned. “Catch up with the lingo.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Teapot.” He growled. 

“Hey! Before you two get into another fight,” Midoriya intervened. “I suggest we get this problem fixed first.” He gave them a hard glare. 

“Whatever. The only reason why I’m here is because I don’t need Y/N’s dumbass making us look weak.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” You said rolling your eyes. 

Dear God, this guy was infuriating. 

“We get it dude. I’m weak and stupid and you’re the greatest Hero ever. Woopie.” You said pouring as much sarcasm as you could into your voice. 

“Hey, cut it out, you two.” Midoriya said. “We’re here. I overheard they were going to have a teacher meeting, so let’s just wait outside until they're done.” 

You turned away from Bakugou and turned to look at a huge door. You could hear slight muffles, but nothing too clear. As much as you wanted to eavesdrop, you couldn’t bring yourself to disrespect the people who are probably going to determine your future. 

The four of you decided to sit against the wall, with Midoriya to your right and Todoroki to your left. Hiro was being stiffly pet by Todoroki, while Bakugou sat in front of you. 

“So what was your life before you were morphed here?” Todoroki asked. 

“Nothing special,” you shrugged. “In my dimension, or whatever, there was this huge pandemic that pretty much took over the world. It's like, highly contagious, so we can't leave our house. I did school online and pretty much have stayed home. You can’t exactly come into contact with too many people.” 

“Sheesh, a pandemic?” Midoriya asked. 

“Yeah, it was pretty bad, a lot of people died. And it sucks. But I’ve stayed home a lot. Other than that nothing interesting’s been going on in my life. Literally go on tik tok everyday for like 3 hours everyday though.” You said with a small smile. 

“Tik what?” Bakugou asked with a furrow in his brows. 

“Nothing. Just a stupid app. But what happened here? Like I wanna get an idea of what part of the timeline I’m in.” You asked, looking around. 

“Villains attacked us at U.A.” 

“We fought villains at the train camp where Bakugou and you were targets.” 

“I beat Deku’s ass.” 

“Okay! Okay! Maybe I should’ve been more clear.” You said putting your hands up to get them to pause on the talking. 

“Wait, Midoriya, he beat your ass?” You said giving him a disappointing look. 

“Hey! I didn’t actually expect an actual fight! And just for your information, I for sure won that fight” He said giving Bakugou a slight glare, but still grinning from ear to ear. 

“Oh yeah? You wanna go again shitty nerd?” Bakugou smirked. 

“I’ll be sure to record when Midoriya beats your ass into the ground.” Todoroki chimed in.

“Shut up, Half-and-Half. I’ll beat your ass too.” Bakugou turned to look at him. 

“As much as I would love to see that, I don't need you idiots destroying anymore school property.” 

The four of you looked up to see a pale man with long hair. He had eyebags that could go on for miles. And he had a white scarf around his neck. Honestly, the man looked like he hasn’t showered or slept properly in years. 

“Mr. Aizawa!” The boys exclaimed. The three of them quickly stood up to give him a bow. 

“Hey.” You waved, clearly not getting the hint to stand up. Hiro, however, gave the man a friendly bark and also stood up. 

“I see you still have your rude American customs Y/N. How many times I gotta tell you to bow to your sensei.” He said giving you a playful glare. 

“You can take the girl out of America but can’t take the American out of the girl.” you said, giving him a smirk. 

He sighed, looking used to your snarky comments. “Well, get on with it. Why are you all here?” He asked looking towards Midoriya. 

“Well, we have a slight problem. You know how she had that accident last night?” Midoriya began. 

“She stupidly lost all her skill and any memories of how to work that idiot quirk of hers.” Bakugou chimed in. 

“What? Y/N, explain.” Aizawa said sternly. 

“Okay, well, I’m not actually from this dimension.” you stood up looking at the man nervously, hoping he doesn't kick you out for what you’re about to say. 

“I was transported here last night. Or was it this morning? Well anyways, I’m not actually from here and in my dimension we don’t have powers, or quirks, or whatever, and I don't even know what I’m doing here because I’m totally supposed to be in first period right now, or is it third? I don't know but I don’t know if this is a dream, because to be quite honest, I’m like totally freaking the shit out, and I have this super duper power, and I don't know how to control it, and my dog apparently has powers too but I don’t know what it is cause we haven’t had the chance to test it out, but I make people’s ears bleed, and-” 

“Alright, enough!” His eyes glared a bright read and his hair stood up. 

Immediately, you shut your mouth, hoping not to get him mad. 

“So you don’t remember how to control your quirk?” You shook your head no. 

He sighed looking much more stressed than when he first saw you. “Okay here’s what we’re going to do.” He began. 

“Everyday, for the next 2 months, you will be training with these three troublemakers in hope of getting your control back. I’ll talk to principal Nezu about this and see if there's a reason why another version you ended up here in this dimension. I will also be asking All Might to supervise you four just in case anything happens. We’ll monitor your progress weekly.

“I’m not sure if your memory affects your knowledge on what we’ve been learning so far, like Math. I’ll be sure to ask your teachers to test you on what you’ve been learning.” He concluded. 

“Oh come on! Tests? That blows.” You complained. 

“As for your dog,” He said giving you a glare to shut you up again, “We can go ahead and use Midoriya’s notebooks and the file we have to check him out. As far as I can remember, you two are a team, he helps you gain control, and at the same time provides backup.” 

“We can take a look at my notes later, okay?” Midoriya turns to give you a reassuring smile. 

“Okay, well for now, I suggest the three of you go back to the dorms, take a shower, and wait for the rest of your classmates to get back. I’m not sure if this is a one-day thing, but I want you to get to bed early, got it Y/N? And I’m talking Bakugou-bedtime early, got it?” He said. 

“Yeah, don't worry. What time do you sleep, blondie? 10? 10:30?” You turn to ask. 

“Try 8:30.” Todoroki said, rolling his eyes. 

“8 fucking 30 dude? Are you insane?” You yelled, widening your eyes at the new information. 

“If you don't like it princess, it’s not my problem. Teacher’s orders.” He said smirking. 

“Am I understood Y/N? Also no more use of your quirk until there’s a certified adult around.” He said. 

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” you said dejected at the fact that you would be sleeping at the time you ate dinner. 

You turned to glare at Bakugou, silently promising to yourself that if you ever managed to get your control back, you were going to participate in that fight the boys were talking about earlier to beat the shit out of Bakugou’s ass. 

taglsit: lanaxians-2 soft-levi-girl-blog

[evilmortys]

“Well, it’s great to have you back here in our chambers again. And by that, we of course mean that it’s literally the worst to have you back here in our chambers, C-136.” There’s a definite familiarity in the way Riq IV utters his indicative numerals that rings almost personal, but understandably, there’s little fondness behind his severe greeting. Jesus Christ, he thinks to himself sourly, this fucking Morty again. “You know how this goes, so let’s get right to it. State your name and dimension number for the record, turd.”

“Yeah, well, here’s somethin’ for the record: I’m not- I’m actually not too jazzed about it myself, y’know? Every time I get hauled here, I gotta- I gotta look you guys in the faces for like, an hour. And they’re really ugly ones.” Morty rebukes, arms folded over his chest defensively. His insides quiver like jelly. Deep down, he’s actually really not so good with this confrontation stuff, believe it or not. What Morty is? Still, he can’t half pretend to be unflinching when a situation calls for it. Nerves sufficiently steeled and outward appearance nothing short of done with this shit, he obliges the demand. “Mortimer Smith, Earth Dimension C-136. No additional numerals applicable.”

“Watch it.” Another council member snaps suddenly, already infuriated by the blatant lack of respect, and Morty’s gaze drifts to the secondary speaker. Hazel eyes rest upon the decrepit figure boredly, and he inwardly debates whether it’d be worth it to point out he doesn’t even know the name of any of these other assholes- that’s- that’s about how relevant their input is to him right now. Probably shouldn’t, he concedes grudgingly. Don’t bite the bullet when it comes to spitting snark, y’know? Employing restraint now leaves wiggle room to get away with saying more once this discussion inevitably goes to shit. He looks back to their spokesperson wordlessly, gaze expectant.

“Yes, Rick Prime, you’re absolutely right. He says what we’re all thinking! Now... let me see what you’ve gotten up to this time, C-136. While I’m reading the report over, why don’t you go ahead and tell me: who the fuck do you think you are? And why do you think you can get away with this shit? We’d all love to hear it.” Riq IV gathers up the loose-leaf before him and taps the papers against the imperial desk he sits behind, neatening the stack before beginning to look them over.

“I don’t think I’m anyone- anyone... look, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Morty protests defensively. “There’s nothing I’d even be getting away with! That’s- whatever’s written there, it won’t- it’ll all be a bunch of bullshit!”

“Really? Because let me tell you, this is all lining up very well with what we’ve come to expect of your character.” Riq IV heaves a world weary sigh, bracing himself for what’s to come (this particular turd, and the circumstance of his Rick being such a generous contributor, always makes everything so difficult), and passes the report along for the other council members to peruse. Can’t effectively threaten this one, really. But like hell he won’t try. “Here’s our working theory, turd. You believe that you’re special, and brave, or some shit, and- and you think that because your Rick happens to donate to us often that we have to tolerate this kind of shit from you and take it on the chin. That your actions here don’t have consequence. Am I in the ballpark, C-136?”

“Not even close!”

“Then do you want to tell us what the fuck happened?! Do you want to, oh, I don’t know--- clue the council in on why you saw fit to push a Rick to the ground, stamp repeatedly on his ballsack, and punch him in the face until... he- cried---? Jesus Christ, in- in hindsight- this geezer’s not reflecting on us well. How does this even happen? He got fucked up by a Morty? I mean, at that point, you pretty much deserve whatever happens, right? What the fuck was I even reading there, y’know?” 

Riq IV isn’t quite addressing C-136 come the end of that impassioned order for an explanation, and is instead glancing at the other members incredulously, brow knitted indignantly. The other four Ricks murmur heatedly in irritable agreement, though they’re keen to point out Mortys should never possess the balls to lash out at a Rick violently regardless. With a nod of his head, the spokesman looks down upon the yellow-shirted bastard beneath him, and snaps, “Whenever you’re ready, C-136. Take your time! I know you think this Citadel bows to your goddamn whims either way. Go ahead and phone a fucking friend- why not? You’re- you’re a little monster.”

“Oh, I’m ready, you stupid haircut having- you’re a- dumb ass motherfucker,” Morty spits vehemently, gritting his teeth, before catching himself. His gaze briefly averts, as if in wordless apology for his blunt outburst. He draws himself up slightly, gesticulating with his hands as he attempts to get across his reasoning. “Look, I know it sounds bad. It was bad! It was! I know. But that Rick, he- he was, he was pushing this Morty around, being such a dick, making fun of him, and- there was... he didn’t even have a reason! That Morty was mute, y’know? He’d- he’d had his tongue cut out, or- or maybe ripped out by some sorta alien... I don’t know. He was making this awful gurgling noise, he was frightened, and- what, was I just supposed t- to walk on by? Pretend I couldn’t see that happening?!”

“That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.” Riq IV says pointedly, as if affronted he has to clarify the obvious at all. “We can only assume that Morty was behaving in a way to make him deserve that, just as you should have assumed, turd. Besides, I’ll have you know that tongueless Mortys are in, uh- pretty high demand, for the more morally ambiguous Ricks. In fact, I’m pretty sure we offer services for a humane snip of the tongue. We do that, guys, right? ... Maybe it’s more of a black market thing? Yes. It’s- it’s just an adjustment that can be made to you little bastards, for a price, much like implanting chips into your spines and weaponizing you for efficiency. And let me tell you something: it’s one that I plan to recommend to your grandfather if you continue to push your luck. Our tolerance only goes so far, no matter how much of an asset Rick C-136 is to the development of our Citadel. We won’t exactly crumble without him.”

“Fuck you! Wh- what the fuck is WRONG with you?! Y- you wanna know something?! You wanna know what I think?! Don’t answer: I- I know you don’t, but fuck you, and listen up anyway! Every single one of you BASTARDS are DEFINITELY gonna die with each other’s dicks in your throat from how much you suck each other off! How can you sit up there, and say shit like that, and- and not hear how fucking awful you all sound?!” 

His gesturing hands have long since returned to his sides, and his arms are tensed where they rest- C-136 is acutely aware of the fact that he’s trembling, shaking with anger that has never felt more well founded. Despite himself, he curls his fingers and balls them into fists, as if- as if he could swing for those smug motherfuckers up there from all the way down here. Morty has to jut his chin just to regard them with all this fury, and there’s nothing to goddamn do with it- his breathing quivers from his lungs tensely, and there’s a challenging look crystal clear in his blazing eyes. Can’t do anything about it, the reminder bangs in his brain. The Guard Ricks posted all around don’t even motion to grip their guns tighter, because they fucking know it, and the council fucking knows it, and they know he’s painfully aware of it, too. 

Their broad, shit-eating grins say it all--- at least, they do, until Ricktiminus Sancheziminius sees fit to glance upward briefly by chance, and winds up visibly starting, and fixing his gaze on something else entirely. Somebody else. Somebody other than the spectacle of that notoriously difficult Morty having an outburst. Ricktiminus Sancheziminius nudges Riq IV sharply in the side, and upon gaining the other’s attention and irritable acknowledgement, indicates the new arrival to the spokesman. He soon sobers, flashing the figure at the entrance to their chambers a bemused look- and the others are quick to follow his lead. Morty’s brows knit, and he glances over his shoulder- heart sinking---no, outright dropping---deeply into his stomach the very instant he’s processed it. 

Fuck.

“Ah, your keeper’s here, C-136. Rick Sanchez, earth dimension C-136! We presume our message reached you in a timely manner... and yet, enough time has passed for your grandson to spit vulgarities at us for quite a while. I certainly hope we didn’t pull you away from anything important...” Riq IV smiles strangely, almost as if simpering. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there is something deeply false to the curve of his mouth. Belching, he waves a careless hand, as if to dismiss his own backhanded, apologetic sentiment before the other can even respond to it. “... Though it begs the question of what could be more important than the Citadel. We both have this society’s best interests at heart, after all.”

“Yeah, y-eeeuurgh-eah, what-the-fuck-ever.” Rick replies, sweeping into the chambers and standing at Morty’s side, flashing him a deeply vexed look. He probably heard that whole last part, and out of context, it doesn’t really reflect well on the flicker of patience he's been trying to maintain all the while. “I was balls deep in the concept of time when you motherfuckers called me, so ex-cuse me if I’m not particularly chirpy about being called over this time around. He- he better have at least killed someone, is what I’m saying. I was getting action. Literally fucking with time. I- I don’t wanna fucking be here for anything less.”

Morty’s mouth falls open as he hastens to try and explain himself, ready to trip over his own spluttering words until Rick comes to understand that he was just trying to help- before he realizes, dully, that it won’t even matter. Huffing, the teenager simply looks askance, knowing full well Rick won’t take his side on this. Almost can’t take his side on this. Though it’s not like the other ever strives to have his back anyway. 

This train of thought is a bitter one, and it rattles through his head so loudly, all the biting reminders that he’s in a room full of people who don’t give a shit what he has to say in the slightest, that he briefly tunes out from the exchange between the council and his disapproving grandfather. Their words are little more than buzzing in his ears, but he doesn’t miss much. They’re just filling his companion in on what shit trick he’s pulled this visit. A sharp flick against the side of his head soon bumps him back to reality, and a deep scowl curls the sixteen year old’s lip as he rubs it, fighting the innate urge to bitch. Rick scoffs at him, before turning his attention back to the six alternates perched up there.

“See that? Not even listening. Look, this time last year, Morty was all over the Citadel, just like I am. Nobody’s saying anything about taking issue with this place. Nothing but support in the C-136 household. He’s just going through a little phase, in case you can’t tell. You ever had a sixteen year old Morty? Nightmare. Rebellion, he’s all- all stick it to the Ricks, y’know? He’s just being a c-eeeuurgh-ontrary little shit. Christ, the whole reason he’s here is to pick some crap up that I ordered- did you even fucking get around to grabbing that, Morty? Before you started swinging for Ricks?”

“Yeah. I got it.” Morty says shortly. “Laruxion ore.” 

He finds himself physically biting down on his tongue, as if to chastise it prematurely as it twitches to run away with him about what a nightmare even just grabbing Rick’s shit was, too. The shopkeeper glared down at him, and asked a few dozen hostile questions about what a Morty was doing picking up something so volatile, so potentially dangerous, for his Rick. If it were up to me, he’d declared, unwillingly bagging the package up all the same, you wouldn’t be running around with something like this. Taking it to your Rick or otherwise. Guy can’t pick up his own shit?

“Aw, jeez. Well,” Morty had shot back, unable to help himself, “don’t you all think we’re too stupid to do anything smart anyway? Either you think Mortys are capable of falling the entire Citadel with this ore, and you won’t fork that shit over to me because of that, or you think we’re dumbass, i- incapable, um, y’know- sidekicks. In which case, there’s- there’s no harm in handing it over to me. Right? Just saying, y’know. Y- you guys should pick a lane. Aw, jeez.”

Suffice to say, Shopkeeper Rick was not impressed with his take on the matter, and all but threw the bag across the counter into Morty’s fumbling hands, before angrily shooing him off.

“Might as well have done it myself. Can’t even run an errand without getting stirred up in shit. Look, council,” Rick grouses, pinching the bridge of his nose in a show of utter annoyance, “Let’s just call this square. We all fucking paid for his shit trick today, right? I got blue balls, you had to, uh... rightfully bitch at him, waste your... precious time on a dumbass Morty. And he’s gonna get a fucking earful. I’d- I’d say it won’t happen again, but, Christ- is- was he even entirely in the wrong? If a Rick can get taken out by a Morty, he’s not exactly a valuable member of this society. The society I funnel a lot of fucking cash into on a monthly basis, might I add. G- g-eeeUURGH-etting pretty sick of the same old bitchfest about every toe my moron puts over the line when he’s here. Do you guys do this for every Morty that acts out? I’m just sp-eeEUURGH-itballing over here, but- I kind of thought I was donating to people that had slightly better shit to do than pull my Morty up for being a little- a little angsty, or whatever the fuck, right now.”

“... We do this for Mortys that repeatedly cause issues within our citadel. Which yours does to the point of notoriety, C-136. If you’d only rein in your Morty, this wouldn’t be an issue to begin with---”

“Oh, my God- shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck UP---”

“Morty, YOU shut the fuck up. Sorry for him, as usual. Are we done here?”

“... Of course. We, uh, we’d like to reiterate our gratitude for your contributions to maintaining the-”

“Yeah, yeah, leave me another f-eeEUrrrgh-ucking voicemail about it. Come on, Morty. Y- you’re gonna- I’m gonna fucking kill you when we’re outta here,” Rick chastises, and reaches out to grip his forearm and pull him along as he paces away from his six alternates, muttering darkly under his breath all the while. Visibly nettled by the threat, the sixteen year old bitches top note and makes several efforts to wrench his arm free- and easily manages it once they’re back in the sea of alternates that is the main hub of this hellhole as Rick reluctantly eases his hold.

“Don’t grab me! And- and y’know what, don’t bust my balls about this, either. Would it kill you to be on my side? Like, ever? Wh- why would I beat on anyone for no goddamn reason, Rick?!” Morty explodes, and his grandfather rakes a hand through his tufts of blue hair and glares.

“You know exactly why, Morty. Besides. I’m not exactly in the business of backing you up- not sure if you’ve noticed. Because you’re never actually in the right. You’re just taking everything to heart and poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, as usual. Got that?” 

There’s a certain bitterness behind his words. How the hell do you think it’s going to reflect on me if they know I’ve never been able to put a lid on your shit, Morty? Rick sets off walking, and for a moment, Morty hangs back- hesitating to follow, eyes narrowed fiercely at the other’s retreating back... before he groans, and hastens to scramble through the thick crowds and catch up, demanding an explanation all the while.

“Why do you even put up with their crap, Rick? I- I don’t get it. You’re throwing money at a bunch of dicks, t- to support something you don’t even- to support the fucking Shitadel?” Morty gesticulates wildly, hazel eyes narrowed and gaze intent as he regards his older relative, forearms raised and fingers splayed out in a demonstration of utter bewilderment. “I’m just trying to understand why- why the fuck you would do that! Y’know? Y- you don’t even like this fucking hellhole! The people who live here don’t even like it! I just, I- I don’t---”

Rick’s shoulders slump under this bout of badgering, and, if only to quieten the idiot down, he caves. Lowers his voice and mutters quietly, so as not to be listened in on by anyone around them. 

“You don’t g-eeURRGH-et it? Yeah, I heard you the first time. Look, M-Bomb, if I know those assholes---and I am those assholes---being, y’know, blatant about hating their fucking guts isn’t the way to go. If I say what I think, tell ‘em to suck my balls and shove their society up their ass, how- how exactly do you see that playing out for me?” 

Rick pauses, as if awaiting an answer. Bewildered, the teenager beside him blinks a tad owlishly, and at long last, opens his mouth in preparation to fumble for some sort of answer. The very moment he begins to speak out uncertainly, his grandfather purposefully presses on with his point, much to the boy’s visible aggravation.

“I’ll tell you how it’s gonna play out for me. I- I know it’s a little beyond your, uh, limited understanding, Morty. They’re gonna scout for a new paypig, come in the night, haul us outta home, take my portal gun, and make me a fucking janitor, Morty. Meanwhile your dumb ass is gonna- you’ll end up in that shitty Morty School, taking classes on how to bark great idea, grandpa, like- like some mindless little moron who can’t think for himself. They’d parade you around as an example of how well they break you little bastards down into yes-man sidekicks, since you’re such a stubborn piece of shit. And that’d be if y-eeEUrgh-ou’re lucky, by the way.”

“... Ha. Yeah, well, don’t- don’t talk like you wouldn’t like that. The last part, I mean.” He snorts, and a brief flicker of amusement brightens his companion’s resigned expression. Rolling his eyes, Rick rolls his shoulders into a shrug as they walk, moving through the sea of yellow-shirted teenagers and lab-coated fossils.

“Only if you don’t talk like you wouldn’t get a fucking kick out of seeing me scrub a toilet,” he snipes, and they exchange a glance. 

There’s a brief, strange moment wherein something shifts between them- all the unspoken anger, the seething temper, the typical wariness that clings to the air that hangs between them seems to all but ebb away. 

Morty cracks first. The corners of his mouth twitch upward slightly, a fit of snickers rises in his throat... and the second Rick clocks that he’s going to burst out laughing, he cracks up, too. They laugh, and they laugh, and just when it seems that they’re going to calm back down, they catch each other’s eye and lose it all over again. The other Ricks and Mortys waiting in line for a return portal to their dimension cast them strange looks as they all but giggle feebly beside each other, adamantly refusing to meet each other’s gaze in a fervent effort to recover, now; letting things lapse back into their norm. 

All good things eventually draw to a close, and sure enough, this temporary, shared moment of reciprocal sentiment is one of them. The teenager can’t help but push it, however. Let it last just a minute longer. I won’t hate you again, just for a fraction more time. Don’t hate me again, just for a bit longer. While Rick moves to procure his silvery flask from his pocket, amused grin easing in the corners as his expression becomes idly impatient once more, Morty inhales, picking at a loose thread on his sweater if only to busy himself with something, too.

“Hey, Rick?” His tentative broach at conversation is met with a grunt while the old man slugs back his potent alcohol supply. Casting his grandfather a tentative smile, he fidgets with his fingers. “... Thanks. And- sorry. I- I know you hate, y’know, this whole- paying off this shithole, so we don’t wind up here, and stuff. And seeing those motherfuckers, and their stupid haircuts, more than you have to.”

... The sentiment doesn’t quite have the effect he wanted. Rick doesn’t smile back, once he’s finished downing the last drops from his flask. His brow narrows as he shoves it back into the pocket of his lab coat, and he shakes his head dismissively, refusing to take the attempt to uphold their good mood at face value. Disdain creeps right back into his tone- that distaste and disapproval over Morty’s every choice today rearing it’s ugly head with a vengeance, it seems.

“Yeah. I do. So I guess you owe me b-eeUURGH-ig time, Morty.” 

He returns simply, and Morty’s heart sinks upon registering the snippy edge to Rick’s tone... before he soon finds himself frowning deeply, annoyed with himself for even trying; consumed with that aching anger once again. There’s a certain, undeniable comfort to be found in how familiar the feeling is. Losing the moment of enjoying one another’s companionship, of things being how they were some two years ago again, stings. Undoubtedly. But it’s better not to dwell on them. 

Part of him always wonders if it’s his fault they are the way they are. Keeping each other at arm’s length. Essentially communicating through picking fights over nothing, and bickering over absolute bullshit, with terribly occasional, painfully rare warm moments interspersed amidst all of their resentment. If he were only more wide-eyed and naive, Rick wouldn’t be like this with him. Right? Rick thinks that Morty doesn’t know precisely what his fucking problem is, but it doesn’t exactly take a genius to decipher why he’s so harsh with him most days. Read between the lines of his grandfather’s unspoken resentment. 

No. It takes a smart, capable Morty, unafraid to call him or anyone, really, on bullshit, and injustice. And he never wanted that. What sort of Rick fucking does? The entire point of a Morty is to stand beside you, go along with whatever you say despite their own rightful apprehensions, to freak out and struggle and be impressed, awed, and horrified by the shit you pull. They’re sidekicks, but they’re never supposed to be all that competent. That’s the role of the Rick, after all. C-136 was fearful and clueless when they adventured in his youth, sure. There was a time. But he outgrew it far too fast, picked up on things far too quickly, keen for approval he didn’t want to give purely because of how actually deserved it was. Jesus, even as a kid, he was perceptive. Intrusively so. Full of cutting observations--- with alarmingly poignant outbursts over how Rick conducted himself, dripping with disdain for his behaviour, being plentiful from the tender age of eight.

Rick speaks.

“... Quit pulling this shit.”

Morty snaps.

“Quit being shit, Rick.”

They fix one another with a long, lingering look. It feels like a game of chicken- daring the figure across from them to be the one to break the prolonged staredown they’re locked into... and in turn, out himself as the coward ultimately too afraid to face up to the other. It ends in a perfect draw; grandfather and grandson tear their gazes away at the same moment, scoffing over how stupid it was at all, deliberately shuffling to sit a few more inches apart from one another. 

Distance from it, the duo both decide sullenly. Never as different from one another as they like to insist, unbeknown to the two of them. All you can do. He can’t be told.

Rick and Morty, Earth Dimension C-136, await their assigned portal back home in silence; the balance restored in their uncaring world, and dynamic decidedly chilly once more.

[mina-scribbles]

7 Minutes in Heaven (kageyama x reader)

(slightly explicit i guess)

for context (but it's explained in the piece anw) - the boys threw a going away party for y/n cuz she's going to be away the whole week next week, and one of the games at that party was seven minutes in heaven ~ and she's stuck with tobio. ;))

a/n: enjoy my dudes!! ❤ and tell me what y'all think abt it. hihihi

~~~

A few more minutes, and I was out of here.

Honestly, it wasn't so bad. I mean, apart from me wishing I was dead the first few minutes I was in here and the horrible small talk that I so shamefully and regretfully initisted, things went smoothly after all that so it was all good.

Kageyama was still quiet beside me. The burning sensation where his bare arm touched mine wasn't as strong anymore, but I was still hyper aware of everywhere we touched - our forearms, the back of our hands, our knees.

It was a ridiculous of me to even feel all that, and I just wanted to be out of here.

Well, if I was being truthful, I sort of liked that I was stuck in the closet with Tobio. It was...a rare chance to be this close to someone you liked afterall, and thank God only I knew I liked Tobio. If anybody else did, I think I'd die.

Just anything but that. Because God also knows Tobio doesn't see me that way. I am and always will be just the Karasuno volleyball team manager who picks up after them, hands them their water bottles, schedules practices for them and whatnot.

I was nothing special, and I never will be to Tobio. He loved volleyball too much to put anything else first.

And that was honestly okay with me. I loved that he was so passionate about the sport. All of the boys were, but Tobio and Hinata, they had a fire in them that couldn't be quenched, not till they got to the very top, till they've surpassed every one of their limits and bested those they considered were better than them. It was a kind of hunger that only those two could understand.

That's why they almost always practiced. Whenever I found them, they always had a ball in their hands. Sometimes by themselves or together, but during the latter they usually always ended up arguing.

Speaking of which...

"Why did you join tonight's little party?" I ask him, my voice light with curiosity. "Don't you usually practice at this hour?" Last I checked, it was still seven in the evening. They usually practiced till nine or so, or when somebody finally told them to go home.

Tobio was facing away from me. Probably uncomfortable from how close we were. I understood though. He always was uncomfortable with physical contact. "Daichi-san asked me to go."

I nodded, ignoring the feeling that something just dropped in my stomach. So he didn't really want ant to go. "Well, I'm sorry you were forced to be here," I apologized. And it really was sincere.

His eyes snapped to my face then. It was dark, but there was enough light seeping through the cabinet slits that I could still see his wide-eyed expression.

"No, no," he answered a little too quickly. "I wanted to go actually, but I wasn't sure I was invited."

I rolled my eyes. "I think everyone was invited. But if it were up to me, I wouldn't have had this party. It's not like I'm going away for a long time."

His shoulder shrugs beside me. "Still a long time not seeing you in the gym," he said in a voice so low that I almost didn't catch it. And I couldn't help the little flip in my stomach.

"Seeing me?" I couldn't help but ask.

Tobio's face became panicked again. He threw up his palms in a pacifying manner as he fumbled for an explanation. "No, it's just I'm--we're all so used to seeing you everyday and you being gone for a whole week just seems weird and---"

"Are you saying you're gonna miss me, Tobio?" I tease, pushing myself forward and making him draw back, flustered.

He shook his head. Then nodded again, then shook it again. "I mean, everyone will--but it doesn't mean I won't---not like that but---"

I chuckle, waving a hand at him. "I get it, I was just teasing, Kageyama-kun." My stomach dropped again but that was expected. It was my fault for maybe hoping for a little something more with how he reacted and stuff. Typical of me, but very quickly I brushed that feeling off, not wanting to dwell in shame and disappointment any longer and decided to wait out the few minutes left of being in here.

I sighed quietly, facing forward and propped my arms on my knees again.

At least Tobio and I were friends. Better than nothing, right? And besides, this was just a crush. A crush that's been going on since the beginning of the year, but still a crush so it'll pass. Eventually, I'll find it in me to accept the reality of the situation and---

"(Name)-san, can I ask you something?"

I turned to Tobio. His head was bowed and his hair fell over his forehead, hiding his face from my view. "Yeah, sure," I said.

"Seven minutes in heaven is a dumb game, right, where two people get stuck together and it's up to them what they do in the small space they're stuck in, and whatever happens there, stays there, right?"

I simply nod then realized that maybe he couldn't see it so I added a vocal "Yes."

Tobio lifted his head and faced me, an unreadable expression in his eyes. But for some reason, my heart was pounding in my chest, so loud and hard that I felt it against my bicep.

"You'll be gone the whole week next week, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered slowly, unsure where this was going.

"So you'll probably forget about this."

I frown. "Forget about what?"

And Tobio answered with a kiss. His lips were warm and incredibly soft against mine. I gasped against his lips, and froze. His lips didn't move; they just pressed firmly against mine. On my jaw was a shadow of a touch, like his fingers were hovering there, unsure what to do.

For several seconds, I remained how I was, my brain and body stil ltoo surprised to catch up with what happened.

But then very quickly, the warmth of Tobio's lips left mine and that sensation snapped me out of my daze.

I locked my hands around his neck to keep him where he was and adjusted myself so I was facing him in a way that I could properly return the kiss. Slowly, but encouragingly, I began to move my mouth against his, angling my head so our lips fit each other perfectly - warm, wet and sweet. He tasted like strawberries.

Now it was Tobio's turn to sit frozen, but that didn't last long. Very soon he returned the kiss, moving gently first then gradually with an almost desperate edge. I don't know how he managed, but he had me pressed against the cabinet wall, legs parted so his body fit in the middle.

He caught my face in his hands, his long fingers slowly snaking through my hair and bunching at the nape.

I gasped when Tobio broke the kiss to trail burning kisses along my jaw and down my neck. His other hand settled on my waist while the other angled my head so he had more access to my neck. The tip of his tongue trailed up the side of my neck, stopping at the point just below my earlobe and he brought his lips down on that spot. He sucked on the tender area and I couldn't help the moan that escaped me. My body arched into him, almost like it wanted Tobio to touch me more. The hand on my waist had inched up to the lower mound of my breast. His fingers, warm and strong through the thin foam of my bra, caressed the smooth area, gentle, and almost like he was asking for permission.

As if he had to.

I went to grab his hand to so he could squeeze my breast, but a voice suddenly boomed from outside the closet.

"Alright you two! Seven minutes are up!"

Tobio and I sprung apart so fast like we burned each other just as the closet door swung open, bathing us in too bright light.

I put my hand up to shield my blinking eyes. When they adjusted, I saw that it was Tanaka with a teasing look on his face, almost like he knew. And from our swollen lips and my probably messed up hair, I think he could tell.

"Well, well, well," he said cheerfully, propping his hands on his hips. "I guess you made good use of your time, didn't you?"

I didn't have to look at Tobio to know we were both the same shade of tomato-red.

[hesesols]

Into the WILD

Day 16 of Ichiruki month 2020

Trapped inside fantasy MMORPG. Send help please?

Rating: T

FF/ao3

.

The first thing that strikes him as odd is that the ground underneath him is dewy soft. Not that the carpet in his tiny student accommodation isn't soft. It just isn't as soft by comparison and doesn't smell so strongly of grass and urgh- he hates pollen with a vengeance.

It makes his nose itch like mad and –

Wait!

Last time he checked summer was already over and the northern hemisphere was entering early autumn.

.

Brown eyes open in alarm.

The sun is in his eyes as he sits up and he's lying in a sea of golden tulips and ruby red camellias, blades of grass and crushed flowers under his fingertips.

He isn't alone.

There are others next to him. Each one garbed in unusual medieval clothing- intimidating-looking armours with spikes and brightly-coloured capes, fur-trimmings and equally garish-looking armbands; brandishing weapons that range from claymores to wooden staffs. Everyone seems to be in more or less the same state of disbelief and wide-eyed amazement at their new surroundings.

Where are they?

And holy shit! Is that a real-life armoured bear?

.

"You look like you could use a hand there, Kurosaki."

"Ishida?"

Ishida or at least who he assumes to be Ishida- his annoying cousin of sorts and fellow guild member- stands in front of him, offering an outstretched hand. Ichigo recognizes the voice but those pointy ears, the gleaming ivory bow that stands at a grown man's height and strange cleric-like clothing- those are definitely new. He grabs hold of it and pulls himself up, wiping at the grass stains with a fierce scowl before turning to the strange elf-like creature.

"What are you wearing?

Uryuu snorts, "I could ask you the very same question, Kurosaki."

Ichigo glances at the midnight black armour he has on- light weight, extra resistance to magic and +25% endurance to all physical attacks- wait, where did that come from?- the reassuring weight of Zangetsu in his hands-

He blinks.

.

Name: Zangetsu. Also known as: Sword of the Moon, Cursed Fang. Status: Legendary. Raid item from the Sacking of the Gollum King's Palace at Hueco Mundo. The mythical black blade forged by the Grandmaster Yhwach over the Fires of Sokyouku for a full year and a half in preparation for the Conquest of the Soul King's Throne (see also Conquest of the Soul King's Throne). Grants the wielder—

.

Reeling from the surprise, he falls flat on the grass.

How the hell did that just happen? How did all those words and background information just pop into his head unprompted? Almost like they're in a fantasy RPG gam—

"What's going on?"

Uryuu's smile is grim and sardonic, sliding the half-moon glasses up the bridge of his nose before he tells him, "Don't freak out but I think we're inside the game."

.

.

.

"Anything?"

Uryuu shakes his head.

Ichigo sighs. The lines of communication are down and no one has been able to log back out into the real world since they first entered.

"This doesn't make any sense at all!"

10,000 WILD players across the world and different servers who were online and active at precisely 12 midnight that day somehow found themselves transported into the game world and trapped there as their game character persona.

They're calling it the Lockdown.

No one has a clue as to why they were the only people affected, nor do they know how they came to. One minute they were logged in, playing the game as usual; the next thing they know they're lying flat on their asses in this strange new world strongly reminiscent of the game world of WILD, as their respective game characters.

He's one of the lucky ones he thinks. As a human Swords Master, there isn't much alteration to him besides the clothes and the muscle bulk added to his physique, unlike Chad who woke up as a bear armed to the teeth with a war axe and metal gauntlets. It wouldn't have been a pleasant wake up call for anyone, much less someone who wakes up trapped inside a fantasy MMORPG.

"What about Keigo then? Have you managed to locate him yet?"

Uryuu's eyebrow twitches. The pale blue glow from his hand falters for a fraction of a second when his attention shifts to shoot his guild leader a nasty glare.

Ichigo growls before mumbling out an apology to the raven-haired Cleric. He knows of course that Uryuu is trying his best and really in a strange new world that seems equal parts deadly and fascinating, the best is all they can do.

He's just … frustrated over the lack of answers and to make matters worse, one of their own still remains unaccounted for. Out of all the guild members who decided to switch servers during the Lockdown, it just had to be Keigo- scatterbrain extraordinaire. He wouldn't trust Keigo not to get sold on some crazy-ass get-rich-quick scheme in the real world, let alone in this virtual reality full of bloodthirsty monsters just waiting to make a nice dinner out of unsuspecting players.

The double doors to his studies are suddenly pushed apart, jolting him out of his thoughts. Orihime stumbles in barefooted and narrowly avoids tripping over the trail of her druidic dress robes in her excitement. Her cheeks are flushed and the pretty flowers in her flower crown bloom and blossom in magnificent shades of pinks and violets as she makes her announcement.

"Kurosaki-kun! I have his location!"

Ichigo jumps to his feet.

.

Finally!

.

It's the first piece of good news he's had since he found himself stranded here with the rest of his guild members.

"So where is the idiot then?"

Behind her, trails Tatsuki- their resident cynic and Shield Maiden who purses her lips and informs both him and Uryuu rather miserably, "You're not going to like this. He's in the Forest."

Ichigo resists the urge to face-palm as he sees Uryuu rubbing at his temple.

"Keigo must have been on his way back to HQ and decided to take the shorter route," Uryuu rationalizes things- as the team tactician he excels at it, "he couldn't possibly have known."

That's right. Keigo couldn't possibly have known that he would get sucked into the game and be left standing in place of his game character.

Tatsuki gives a derisive snort, "Doesn't make a difference. A level 25 Bard like him can't possibly survive the Forest of Hueco Mundo alone. He's going to get himself killed. The Forest is no man's land- level 70+ Hollows and player killers aren't warded out."

All eyes turn to their orange-haired team leader.

"What do you want us to do?"

Call it instincts but Ichigo has a nasty suspicion that player death in their new world would also mean certain death in the real world. The thought makes him nauseous and for obvious reasons, he isn't too keen on testing out the theory himself.

Keigo may be a pain-in-the-neck and downright insufferable at times but damn it! He's one of them. He's their pain-in-the-neck and they can't just leave him there.

In the real world, Ichigo Kurosaki may be just an ordinary university student bogged down by studies but here in WILD, he's a guild leader, it's his job to look after his guild members and he pledges to make sure that every single one of them makes it back home to the real world in one piece.

Ichigo heaves a loud weary sigh, grabbing the sleek black katana by his side.

"Let's go get our idiot back!"

.

.

.

"I told you we should have gone left instead of right!"

Tatsuki can feel her skull throbbing. She should have just stayed behind with Chad and Orihime.

"Stop yelling at me! It's not my bloody fault that you're so fucking incompetent that you couldn't get a better map!"

"Oh so I'm the incompetent one?! Never mind I was the one who organized the rations! We would have starved to death days ago if I hadn't triple checked our provisions!"

Tatsuki grimaces as the feel of exhaustion creeps in as does the unbearable chaffing on her thighs. It wasn't just the lines of communications that were shut off with the Lockdown. It turns out the Portals- their main means of transport have also been disrupted and that means that the full distance between Karakura and the Forest had to be covered by good old-fashioned horse-riding.

They've been riding nonstop since they left Karakura, trading horses with NPCs in the farmlands nearby to push ahead at a gruelling pace and rescue Keigo as soon as possible. It is a noble cause but the trade-off for the weeks' long worth of hard-riding leaves the three riders surly and sullen. This virtual reality that they're trapped in certainly feels real enough, right down to hunger pangs and sore muscles.

Chaffed thighs, bland food, little sleep and the heat (the sheer humidity was making her hair frizz) made for horrible traveling condition and it seems that both Ichigo and Uryuu are about to hit their respective boiling points.

She rolls her eyes, tugging at her horse's rein to halt.

"Both of you need to shut up before –"

A sudden rustling in the bushes nearby draws their collective attention and sure enough from the depth of the overgrown bushes, a Hollow emerges. This one seems more reptilian in features, flickering pink tongue and all. Something jumps at the back of her mind but Tatsuki ignores it.

The Guide is nothing more than a useless collection of WILD lore and trivia.

She doesn't need a lecture on Hollow classes and their special attacks to know that the only good Hollow is a dead one.

With a loud battle war cry, she unsheathes her blade and leads the charge, throwing herself against the beast.

.

.

Ichigo leaps through the dense foliage with Zangetsu drawn and bloodied in his hand. Despite Tatsuki's misgivings about his foolhardy plans and recklessness, the woman is just as bad with her own brand of battle lust, leading the charge like a crazy berserker.

All hell literally broke loose the second they stormed through the clearing. The sheer number of the Hollow horde overwhelmed them and forced them to break formation and the three of them took off in different directions in a bid to divide the remaining Hollows' attention.

He ducks behind a tree to catch his breath. Having lost sight of both Uryuu and Tatsuki during their retreat, he is in a sour mood and more than a little embarrassed that a level 98 Swordsmaster like him is being forced back by a horde of weakling Hollows in level 50s.

"Psst. Ichigo."

Ichigo grips Zangetsu tightly, eyes nervously darting at his surroundings. He could have sworn that he heard Keigo's voice. Well it's either that or he's officially losing his mind.

"Over here."

A head pops out from the bushes next to him and Ichigo reacts accordingly- nearly slicing the newcomer's head clean off his shoulder and Keigo almost becomes a casualty of friendly fire before Ichigo sees through the heavy layer of disguise and stops the blade mid-swing.

"Keigo?"

The bard is barely recognizable with his slashed and dirtied tunic, patches of dirt and dried leaves covering his face.

"The fuck you doing- sneaking up on me like that! I could have killed you!"

Keigo couldn't have cared less. With a loud wail and snot running down his face, he throws himself at his saviour and professes his undying gratitude in between hiccups and tears.

"ICHIGO! I knew you would come for me! I never doubted for a second!"

"Get off me! You stink!"

The happy reunion doesn't last as the roar of a Hollow and heavy footsteps of a lumbering giant still their movements. Ichigo pushes Keigo away from him and readies his blade, but even his quick reflexes are no match for the suddenness of the attack.

"ICHIGO!"

The Hollow's swipe knocks the air right out of him and sends him flying. The tree trunk of a young sapling snaps in half as his back connects painfully with it. The pain disorients him and he is enough of a doctor's son to recognize the signs of concussion. Also, he thinks he might have cracked a rib (or two) as fresh blood- metallic in taste gurgles past his throat.

His vision clears in time for him to see the Hollow- a Dragon class one with beady yellow, thick, iridescent scales covering its front and gigantic wings sprouted at his back, rearing up for another charge.

This time at Keigo, who is down on his knees- eyes wide with fear as he scrambles to get away from the advancing Hollow.

There's no time to think. Ichigo pushes everything he has- the very last spurt of HP and MP within him towards Keigo, taking his place before the monster with gapping mouth, awaiting certain death to come.

.

.

"Out of the way!"

His eyes snap open just in time to see a small lithe figure, sunlight reflecting off the bone white armour- so bright that he squints, leaping through air and landing gracefully on the Hollow's back. A glint of light flashes yet again and before his very eyes, one of the Hollow's tattered wings is cut off, an arc of blood spurts high into the air and the Hollow's roar of anguish follows.

"Are you deaf or stupid? Get out of the way!"

Ichigo doesn't hesitate. With Keigo tucked under his arm, he pushes past the pain and sprints for the clearing.

With them gone, the mysterious stranger makes quick work of the beast, easily dismantling its other wing before diving for the kill; sinking the white blade somewhere between the soft scruff, flabs of excess skin free from the scaly armour.

Ichigo watches in silence as the dying monster screeches in pain, a swan's song in roars of fury before it topples over with dead eyes, a fine cloud of dust from where its body fell.

With the urgency of the situation gone, he focuses on the newcomer. Sheathing Zangetsu as it becomes apparent from the markings and sigil on the stranger's shield and helmet that he is a Paladin, one dedicated to the path of the light. They're in safe hands- for now at least.

"Where did you come from?"

The Paladin regards him oddly.

"What do you mean?"

.

"Princess!"

Half a dozen of swords are suddenly drawn and held under their throats by what seems to be a band of armed knights. Their armours gleam with the same bone-white shine and the leader of the men- a tall redhead with inked markings across his forehead approaches them with a fierce scowl and the intent to kill.

Next to him, Keigo yelps.

"The fuck!" Ichigo curses. His chest hurts, he's barely standing on his feet and now this?

Can this day get any worse?

.

"Watch your mouth, you punk!" The redhead growls threateningly, "You're in the presence of the Princess."

Amber eyes narrow. Did they think he's stupid? There's no one vaguely even female in their company unless—

The Paladin removes his helmet and a cascade of black hair- dark as the night pours forth. Apple cheeks, soft petal lips and elfin features curtailed somewhat by the iciness of her stare and her unsmiling face.

Their eyes meet.

.

Oh!

.

The short stature suddenly makes so much sense. Ichigo gulps.

"They're Heroes, Renji."

Renji scowls and gives them a dirty look.

Ichigo's eyebrows knot in confusion. "Hang on- what do you mean by Heroes and how are you a princess? Royalty isn't a job class and Paladins don't call themselves Princesses. I don't care what level you are, that's not allowed by the game admins."

The smile on the woman's face- Ichigo doesn't know what to make of it, but he thinks he's about to be made into a fool of epic proportions, especially when she pushes past her armed guards and tilts his face up by the chin with the tip of her white blade.

Smirking with dark violet eyes gleaming, she tells him, "That's because I'm not a Hero. Look closer."

Sure enough- when Ichigo focuses his gaze at her, her presence is shrouded in golden aura. The Guide pings- very belatedly and most unhelpfully, he might add.

.

Name: HRH Princess Rukia of the noble house of the Kuchiki, heir apparent to the throne of Seireitei. Status: NPC

.

He bites his tongue.

"B-But- but NPCs aren't sentient," Keigo blurts out.

Ichigo turns just in time to see him give out a pained yelp, being pummelled by the angry redhead, "Oh I'll show you how non-sentient my fists are!"

He winces. That looks like it would hurt… a lot. But Keigo's an idiot with thick skin, he'll live.

Rukia- her name rolls off his tongue easily. He refuses to even entertain the idea of addressing her by her royal title. For starters, a princess isn't supposed to be a Paladin, or know how to fight or use a sword, or look this good while having him at her mercy.

He gulps when violet eyes narrow at him.

"And you? Do you think that NPCs are non-sentient beings too?"

Ichigo is a fast learner and gives a quick shake of his head.

"Good-" her lips curve into a smile, hair dipping low to tease at the contours of his face as she whispers into his ear- "Because this NPC just saved your life. I'll show you just how deadly I am with my sword before you dismiss me as just another background token NPC."

The sword tip leaves his neck.

"Now, hold still."

That's all the warning he gets before a green glow is emitted from her hands- smelling faintly of mint and something fresh he can't quite name. He shuts his eyes, letting the healing magic wash over him, knitting most of his superficial cuts and wounds back into place.

When the light fades, his chest still hurts but at the very least he feels a little less light-headed and breathes a little easier despite the pain.

He wants to thank her- both for her healing and her timely rescue from the Hollow but she refuses to meet his eyes.

"Renji," she barks at her captain of guards who immediately stands to attention.

"Take them with us. He needs a proper healer. I can't set his broken ribs."

"It's Ichigo!" he calls out, interrupting their conversation and earning himself a hard glare from Renji but Rukia's gaze is almost thoughtful.

"Can you still ride, Ichigo?"

He nods.

A horse is brought to him under Rukia's instructions and as soon as he is properly mounted with Keigo seated behind him, the woman sounds the horn, black hair unbound and flailing in the wind as she leads the company into a gallop.

"To Seireitei!"

.

.

FF/ao3

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I have a thing for fantasy AUs. Can’t you tell? Click on link for rec list of some off-main Isekai/Game animes. I have a special place in my heart for them.