#pearl specially he has barely talked too

[cynthrey]

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You know i cant let past the opportunity to do angst with this man

[neowinestainedress]

can i request a drabble for haechan apparently being shirtless when practicing (i had to sit down when they revealed that in the dream anniv content) any ideas u have about it please just throw them in imfuffhfdghfugkfu//:/:/haechan??1!1!1?1!

w!: practice room sex, public sex, mirror sex, unprotected sex, implied ‘haters’ with benefits (not really just two idiots who bicker a lot and occasionally fuck AND bicker while they fuck)

a/n: he is completely insane for that, good for the dreamies who can see him. also wrote this in a rush of inspiration and horniness instead of going to sleep lmao, hope you’ll like it!! if there are any mistakes it's because I'm tired, I'll fix them tomorrow. (also it’s longer than a drabble I’m sorry I got carried away but haechan’s so %#?!/(& )

After ten years of training at the SM building, and three years as a debuted idol you should know where your girl group is practicing and where you shouldn’t go. But apparently, you don’t. You blame it on the new building, how long has it been? Two years? Still too new for you to know what you were doing. Being too tired after an entire day practicing for your upcoming comeback, and not having at least one of your groupmates guiding you back from the bathroom, led you here. 

“Where the hell is my bag?” You murmur to yourself, scratching the back of your head, realizing that your neon purple bag is nowhere to be seen near the door. 

“Surely not here.” You hear from behind, a male voice that makes you turn around in surprise. But your mouth falls open even more when your eyes fall on his body. Why the hell is Haechan naked in the practice room? 

“Like what you see?” he asks with the same old smug smirk that you know too well. Now, it can be said that you two have history, or something. Two competitive people can only make a flame explode, right? That’s pretty much what happens every time you are left alone.

“And you? Like to show off?” 

“So you agree there’s something to show off,” he chuckles, walking closer to you. And you wish you could mock him some more but well, he had something to brag about for sure, also there was something weirdly hot about him after practice, or in the middle… 

“Where are the others?” You ask, drifting your gaze from him, seeing their bags but not them. 

“Why do you care?” He asks, leaning against the wall. “Want to make sure we can play?” 

“Play? Hide and seek?” 

“I know you’re trying too hard to keep your eyes off of me,” he huffs. “And don’t act as if this is the first time.” 

“I still don’t get why you are naked. Don’t you film this? Do they upload you on youtube like this?” 

“Nah, this one is reserved for special people,” he winks, “and you’re one of the lucky ones.” 

“I should go.” 

“Are you sure?” He says, blocking you, pushing you against him, and you can’t even care that there’s sweat pearling his abs and it’s sticking against you… at the end, it’s not like you are any better. 

You look at the clock, seeing that you still have a bit of time left before somebody started screaming at you all over the building. So you give in. You need to unwind, you have no idea when was the last time you had sex; the busy schedule was barely giving you time to try to take care of yourself alone. And sex with Haechan is great. Damn if it is. And you can’t deny that he looks so good right now, the bright red of his hair that would’ve been horrendous on anybody made him look so attractive, and you weirdly found exciting to see the thing layer of sweat on his bronze skin, defining his muscles even more. 

In a second, he drags you to the other side, so you’re just a bit more hidden from the others but the mirrors of the practice room still make you reflect over it. 

“Fuck, these pants make your ass look good,” he comments, cupping your asscheek from the grey sweatpants you’re wearing. 

“Anything makes my ass look good,” you talk back, smirking at him through the mirror. 

“Yeah, but I like it better without nothing,” he chuckles, pushing it down so it reaches your ankles, soon followed by your undies. 

“Are you sure they won’t come back?” You ask, fearing some of his groupmates might come in.

“They won’t, but even if they did? Is it a problem?” 

“Of course, it is,” you mutter. “Just move.” 

“You’re always so eager, God,” he huffs, palming your mound before he starts circling your clit. “And you’re already wet.” 

“I’m stressed,” you reply, closing your eyes, forehead falling against the mirror, fogging it with heavy breaths when two of his fingers slide easily inside you. 

“And you come looking for me,” he snorts, biting your earlobe, your ass pushing back against him and you can feel his hard throbbing cock press against your tailbone. “Because you know nobody fucks you better than me.” 

“It was a coincidence,” you mumble, hand flattening against the mirror to hold yourself up. “And it wouldn’t have happened if you – fuck – put some clothes on.” 

“Sure, blame me,” Haechan rolls his eyes. “And cry for me when I don’t give you what you want.” 

You turn around in shock when he pulls away from you, and you catch him licking his fingers clean. “Lee Donghyuck,” you warn, glaring at him. “It’s not time and place to fuck around.” 

“No?” He pouts. “Thought that was what you wanted to do.” 

You let out a heavy sigh before giving up your pride because you really can’t risk it. “Please, fuck me?” 

“If you ask so nicely,” he jokes, walking toward you, turning you around again but this time lifting your top and your gym bra up, pushing your boobs against the cold surface of the mirror, nipples going hard in an instant. 

“You look so pretty like this, you know?” He coos, pushing your body against the mirror more, the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance, watching in awe as your slit is basically begging him to fuck you. And he does, because he knows you don’t have time and also because he needed this. 

Your mouth lets out the biggest moan of relief, finally feeling like you have touched the stars again. 

You two might bicker every two seconds when you are in the same room but damn if he knew how to give it to you right. 

His cock fills you just right, perfect in length and girth and the speed of his thrusts is your favorite. Not that you had sex with so many idols but yeah, some of them just weren’t it. 

Haechan knows everything that you liked, so it’s not surprising that one of his hands reaches around to wrap around your throat, pushing you back against his chest and the other plays with your clit. 

“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he groans against your ears. “I want you to keep in mind who makes you feel this way. I want you to – fuck – crawl back to this practice room every time you want cock because the others just can’t give it to you like I do.” 

You hate proving him right, but he is. “Mhh, yes, nobody like you.” 

“I know, baby,” he replies. “Look at the mess on the mirror,” he points out, making you notice that your wetness was splashing everywhere. “Your pussy loves my cock that much.” 

You’re about to answer when you hear footsteps from outside the door and your body freezes. 

“Hae-Haechan there’s somebody,” you warn him but he has no intention of stopping. 

“So who cares? Just keep quiet? Or do you have to let the whole building know you’re letting me fuck you while your members are working hard for the comeback?” 

“I can’t keep quiet,” you whisper, feeling humiliated at the confession. It’s not your fault he feels that good. 

“I’ll make you keep quiet,” Haechan says before pushing two fingers into your mouth. “Suck,” he orders. “I know you love doing it.” 

And he knows what he’s doing because your walls squeeze around him harder and you feel your knees buckle. 

“You’re so pretty when you don’t talk,” he laughs, making you glare at him for a second before pleasure took over the need to slap his face again. “One day we’ll fuck at my dorms – fuck – need to fuck you naked against a mirror, over and over again. Need to fuck you dumb on my cock.” 

“If you can keep up,” you retort as soon as his fingers slip out of your mouth. 

“God, you’re insufferable,” he growls, hips snapping faster against your ass, making you smirk as you think that you got exactly what you wanted. And he gets it, he knows you by now, and he hates that he falls for your tricks every single time. 

He groans again, turning your face around to kiss you roughly, the hand around your neck slipping down to cup your breasts that are not pressed against the mirror anymore. “You drive me insane.” 

“Good,” you smirk against his lips. 

“One day I’ll fuck that smirk out of your face.” Is the only thing that he says before pleasure gets too much for any of you to keep going with your bitter remarks. It’s exciting though, probably too much if you minded to care about what’s toxic or not, but you don’t care. It’s just sex at the end of the day and you both need it. 

When you feel your orgasm and you know he’s close you speak, “Pull out.” 

“No,” he replies. “Come on, we’ll make a mess.” 

“I have practice,” you whine, trying to act as if the thought of dancing full of his cum doesn’t turn you on. 

“It’s not more than half an hour,” Haechan mumbles, fingers sliding down to play with your clit again. “I know you want it, I know you want to keep a little reminder of me, don’t lie and take it.” 

And he’s right once again, so you give in and hum. 

“I knew it,” he moans, meeting your gaze through the mirror, making your legs shake at the way he looks at you. There was something so hot about being so exposed, more than all the other times you two sneaked in the bathrooms or empty practice rooms that you were sure nobody was going to use. 

“Fuck,” Haechan groans, leaning his head against your shoulder as he comes inside of you, cock rubbing in and out your wet cunt, making you shiver in overstimulation. The first orgasm after God knows how long and it feels like the most liberating feeling ever. It’s so strong that your legs almost collapse when he pulls out of you, but luckily his arms keep you up. 

“You good?” He asks, a tender smile on his lips. 

“Yeah, thanks I guess,” you mumble, kneeling to pull your panties and pants up before his cum could stain the outside of your sweats. You can survive 30 minutes, right? You hope so. 

“You should cover up, by the way,” you tell him, bringing the attention back to his exposed chest, covering your own by fixing your bra and top, hoping you look decent. 

“Why? Afraid I might fuck somebody else?” 

“Afraid you might catch a cold, dumbass,” you reply pushing him away, freezing when the door slams open. 

“Oh, hi,” Jaemin says, walking in, staring at you with a furrow on your face. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, nothing, just asking him for help for a note I can’t reach,” you say, hoping he can’t feel the embarrassment in your voice and hoping your brain won’t betray you making you turn your head toward the part of the mirror that was stained with the mess you made. “You know, those impossible things we have to do to bring money at home,” you joke, hoping he would buy it, and he does. 

“Yeah, I regretted all my life choices with the last comeback,” he says, smiling at you before turning his attention to his bag, looking for something. Unbothered by the fact that you and Haechan were in the same room, alone, while he was half naked. And you wonder just how often Haechan didn’t keep his clothes on. 

You hear Haechan chuckle before he walks you toward the door. “If you need more singing lessons, you have my number,” he winks, and you glare at him, giving him the finger but he shrugs it off and says, “Next time I’ll bring the microphone.” 

[cacoetheswriting]

pearl: august 1984

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2k chapter summary: goodbyes are always hard. and as eddie comes to learn, they're especially hard when they happen with a person you love.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, angsty, hard goodbyes, self-doubt / insecurities, mentions of recreational drug use, use of pet names - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

The day Eddie had been dreading for months has finally arrived.

His best friend was leaving to start an adventure in college and she was doing so… without him. 

He really shouldn’t be this upset, after all, he’d been anticipating this moment ever since the two of you found out he wouldn’t get passable grades. But as he watched you pack the rest of the boxes into your parents car, his heart ached. It was suddenly all too real.

The two of you spent the entire summer trying to knock off as many items as you possibly could off a spontaneous bucket list you once came up with while high. From camping in the woods, then watching the sunset and sunrise together, randomly putting up Christmas decorations in July (the trailer looked like something out of a holiday special, for which Wayne almost killed you both), to even getting small matching tattoos — your initials on the inside of your right pinkies. The two of you completed every ridiculous thing on that list and honestly had the time of your lives while doing so. 

“We should come up with a new list for next summer,” you muse, sitting with your legs dangling off the edge of the roof of your parents house.

Eddie smirks. He’s next to you, laying down and looking up at the cotton-candy clouds above as he gently rubs his hand on the bare skin of your lower back in a circular motion. The two of you had been in this position for the last twenty minutes, talking about nothing and everything all at once. And Eddie’s not a religious person by any means, but he thinks this is what heaven must feel like. He’s sure of it, actually.

“Maybe we could go on a mini road trip? Hm?” You continue, glancing back at your best friend's relaxed frame. “Celebrate you graduating in style, in New Orleans, as opposed to the stupid Hideout. What do you think?”

He smiles at the thought. He smiles at the fact you’re actually planning to still be in his life next year, never mind going on a trip together, despite your clear ability to make friends anywhere you go. Then, because of the same exact reason, his smile falters and he sits up slightly, propping himself up on his forearms before tilting his head as he looks at you.

“What if you meet someone new?” Eddie ponders and although the tone of his voice is teasing, the expression on his face is filled with worry. “You’re not gonna want to celebrate my delayed High School graduation when you could be goin’ on some fancy trip with your fancy college friends.”

You roll your eyes then lay backwards, leaning against his side. “Why would I want to make new friends when the one I have now provides me with enough dramatics?”

The tease earns you a melodic chuckle and a poke to your ribcage. 

“Ha!” Eddie mocks, “You’re hilarious.”

“And you’re being stupid, so just agree to the New Orleans plan and shut up ‘cause all I’m tryin’ to do is have another perfect summer.”

Eddie huffs lightheartedly before laying back down, one arm now around your shoulder, holding you close. The giggles die down slowly and he lets out a content sigh.

“Shit, princess. I gotta be honest, I don’t think we’ll be able to create anything nearly as perfect as this.”

And for Eddie, it really was the perfect summer with the perfect girl. His girl.

Unfortunately for him, his girl was playing tetris with her belongings, making sure it all fit in the boot of the car, as he watched with a sullen look on his face because you weren't really his and this would be the last time you two saw each other at least until Thanksgiving.

Eddie realised his feelings for you developed into something he wasn’t used to after that afternoon in the back of his van, back in March, when he sang Me and Bobby McGee to you. Ever since then, he had tried to navigate around this unforeseen situation and later, the last few weeks to be exact, he even tried to tell you how he felt on numerous different occasions. Well, actually, tried is a strong word. 

The correct expression would be he thought about telling you, but every time the moment felt somewhat right, he chickened out. His insecurities got the better of him because what if he didn’t really like you in a romantic way, just made himself believe that he did since you were leaving and his mind was selfishly trying to convince him professing his feelings would get you to stay. Or worse. He was scared to be honest ‘cause what if you didn’t feel the same way and he just flushed years of friendship down the drain.

But right this second, despite all perceived consequences and scenarios he replayed in his head on loop, Eddie was full of regret. He should have been honest with you since, at the end of the day, it didn’t matter if you liked him back ‘cause he’d remain your friend regardless. You, your friendship, meant more to him than any potential relationship.

“Eds,” you hail him back to reality, “Can you be a gentleman and help me with my last suitcases? They’re all that’s left in my room.”

He nods, plastering a fake smile on his face, and follows you inside. 

The once colourfully decorated bedroom, your safe space as well as his, was now pretty much empty. Everything was gone, aside from permanent pieces of furniture, random posters, awards for different high school accomplishments, and knick knacks you thought were too childish for college.

You point to the suitcases you would like for him to take, but Eddie's distracted. His eyes are darting around the space. He's remembering where things used to be and all the memories associated with them, and he seriously thinks there’s nothing left to do but break down.

“Eddie,” you say in a soft tone, standing in front of him, “Are you okay?”

All he can do is shake his head. The action, albeit small, was enough for you to drop the bag you were holding and wrap your arms around him.

The hug is intense yet gentle all at the same time. You rest the palms of your hands on his back as he lifts his own arms to hold you in place by your waist, grip tightening with every passing second. And he’s a complete goner. Head over heels. I think I like you as more than just my best friend, he thinks to himself and it really takes everything he’s got not to say those words out loud.

Instead, Eddie gets lost in the scent of your perfume and the comfort of your delicate breathing into his frame. He’s memorising how your touch feels, how peaceful it is to simply be hugged by you. He wants to remember this forever and be able to think about it when you’re a thousand miles away.

He's not exactly sure how long the two of you stand like this for. Not like he cares, though. He wishes you could remain in this position forever. Reality unfortunately strikes when he hears you sniffling into his raggedy t-shirt. You proceed to reluctantly pull away and wipe your nose along with any lone tears that may have escaped while the two of you hugged, before offering him a warm smile.

“I-I actually have something for you,” you say and retrieves a cassette tape from the back pocket of your jeans. “I was going to give this to you when we said our final goodbyes, but I guess it doesn’t have to wait. Here.”

Eddie reaches for the gift and for the first time all morning, the smile on his face is genuine. It’s a copy of Janis Joplin’s Pearl.

“It’s my tape. The same one we listened to in your van that time,” you explain as his fingers graze across the cracked case. “I wanted to get you a new one but I figured the sentimental value of this one is priceless. After all, one of my favourite memories with you is associated with this specific tape.”

That’s when the metalhead looks up to catch your eye. 

“I can’t accept this.”

“No, no, no,” you protest, “It would really mean a lot to me if you took it, Eddie. I kinda like the thought of you listening to it when I’m a thousand miles away.” There’s a brief pause as you hesitate, “Maybe you’ll even think of your best friend when Me and Bobby McGee plays.”

There’s a glimmer in your eyes that Eddie can’t quite decipher, though, it’s a look that makes him want to reach out for you and wrap his arms around you once again.

So that’s exactly what he does.

He slides the tape into one of the pockets of his denim jacket before pulling you into another embrace. You slam gently into his chest, smiling wide, and let out content hum as Eddie places a kiss on your crown. 

This was your last moment together for months. Months. That terrified you both equally. Since the two of you first started hanging out, you’ve only ever been apart for maybe a day or two at a time — usually when either of you was sick, but even then you’d find a way to see each other, if only through a bedroom window.

Eddie was also fortunate enough that your parents really liked him. They never judged him by his appearance or thought of him any less because of the way he was brought up. Even with your dad being a police officer, bailing the curly-haired teen out of trouble on more than one occasion, your parents were always supportive of your friendship.

He’s gonna miss the Thursday dinners at your house. The family trips he was always invited to join. Learning how to fix up cars with your dad while you sat on a broken chair in the corner of the garage and did your homework. And even though Eddie knows that even with you away at college, he always has support in your parents, the thought of doing any mundane task without you, makes him sorrowful.

“I’ll never not be thinking of you, princess.” Eddie announces honestly. “Even when you’re making new friends and are busy forgetting all about me,” he tries to joke, but it just pains him more, “You are always, always, going to be on my mind.” 

He thinks then that his feelings are indeed genuine. He’s convinced mainly because this feels right. Him and you, holding each other like this. It feels… right. And his heart grows fonder as you squeeze him tighter, plus he swears there’s an aura around the two of you, glowing a bright fucking pink like in the comics he’s always telling you to read. Jesus Christ. Screw “liking” you. He may actually even be deeply fucking in love with you.

Which is exactly why he cannot tell you. Especially now.

You deserve to say goodbye to Hawkins, even if it’s just temporary, and get the education you’ve been dreaming of ever since he’s known you, meet new and interesting people, and make memories that he’ll gladly listen to detailed retellings of. Eddie knows if he told you right now, whether you felt the same way or not, you would feel guilty for leaving. You wouldn’t enjoy yourself as much as a college experience is supposed to be enjoyed ‘cause you’d be constantly thinking of him.

Eddie couldn’t do that to you. Not now. Maybe one day he would admit it to you: “Princess, I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen.”. Honestly, he doesn’t mind that at all. Just depends on where your life takes you, which he selfishly hopes isn’t too far away from him.

“Shit, I am really gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Eddie.”

pearl masterlist | main masterlist

thank you for reading <3

& tagging some cool people that expressed interest in this lil series: @cactusangie , @spenciesprincess , @capitanostella

[ticklishraspberries]

Marital Bliss (Catherine/Peter)

Summary: Catherine spends an early morning with her husband, making a fun discovery. (My first fic for The Great!! I love this show and this pairing. If anyone has any prompts for this fandom, please send them my way!! Anyway, hope you enjoy!)

Intimacy with Peter is entirely different now.

Catherine had spent the first year of their marriage in disgust and contempt of him, only touching him when it was absolutely necessary, mostly in the name of making an heir. She would stare blankly at the ceiling and ponder her plans to overthrow him while he laid with her. It was nothing special, no love or connection, no pleasure.

Leo had given her that, the laughter and joy of another person’s touch, and now, he was gone. Strangely, overthrowing Peter has brought them closer than ever. He should technically be dead, or at the very least, imprisoned entirely, and despising her. Instead, he’s grown rather fond of her, and to her surprise and dismay, the feeling is becoming mutual.

There are nights, like the one before, where she will come to his apartments with false nonchalance, secretly hoping he will beg her to stay. Last night, he had done exactly that, and she had done so, and now, the sun has risen and is shining through the windows, and Catherine is awoken by the light dancing in front of her eyelids. She rolls onto her side and snuggles up to her husband’s side, pleased to feel his warmth and steady breathing against her.

He had fallen asleep in nothing but a pair of sleep pants, and the string of his mother’s pearls around his neck. She plays with the necklace absent-mindedly, enjoying the peace, the stillness of the moment. Her fingers brush his skin as she does so, and she’s surprised when the simple touch makes him stir.

“Good morning,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Morning,” he mutters in response, eyes still squeezed shut.

She plays with the pearls closest to his neck, and a smile forms on his lips.

“Tickles,” he says, barely a whisper, and clearly not processing what he has just admitted.

She suddenly feels much more awake. “You’re ticklish?” she asks, delighted.

He seems more awake now, too, realizing the gravity of what he’s said, and the obvious, impending consequence. “...No?” he replies, unconvincingly.

Catherine’s lips curl into a mischievous smile, and she watches with glee as Peter begins to shift nervously, like he’s going to make a break for it. She obviously isn’t going to let that happen, so she makes a quick move to straddle his waist, the skirts of her gown splayed across his bedsheets. “No? Then surely you won’t mind if I test the theory.”

“Catherine,” he says, very slowly, like he’s talking to a wild animal with its teeth bared. “Don’t you dare.”

“Last time I checked, I was the one in charge here,” she replies. “So I think I will dare.”

Her knees hug Peter’s hips, keeping him still as she brings her hands to his bare sides, her touch gentle, light as a feather at first, trailing from his top rib to the waist of his pants and back upwards again. Goosebumps spread over his flesh, and he sucks in a breath, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Hm, perhaps you require a firmer touch to get you laughing?” she suggests, grinning down at him.

He shakes his head, determined to keep his mouth shut.

She, of course, decides to try it anyway, and increases the pace and pressure of her touch, scribbling into the slight curve of his side, and the dam breaks instantly.

High-pitched giggles tumble from her husband’s mouth, and Catherine beams. It’s the most adorable thing she has ever seen, other than her own child’s smiling face.

“I could have made you surrender your crown with so much more ease if I’d know this sooner,” she said.

Peter can only laugh in response. It’s a lovely sound. She has heard him laugh many times, at a stupid jape, or at her expense, but this is different. It is a young, joyful sound that lacks any cruelty.

It is moments like this that show her how truly he has changed. He does not swear, swing out at her, or even protest. He either truly loves her enough to let her get away with this, or…He’s having fun. She can’t quite tell which. Honestly, Peter is such an odd person, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was enjoying this. He craves touch in any form, honestly.

Catherine bends to press a kiss to his collarbone, and while it's never gotten such a response before, it makes him scrunch up and laugh even harder.

Her heart soars. “You are adorable,” she says, muttering it almost to herself.

“Adorable?” Peter giggles out. “No, I’m—handsome, dashing, sexy, fuckable—Wait, not there!”

Catherine scratches her fingers at the small patch of skin beneath her navel and above the waist of his pants. It’s clearly a sensitive spot that makes him grab her wrists, but Catherine keeps scribbling, giggling along with him.

“Catherine, darling, please—” Peter gasps.

She takes the hint and stops, pressing another kiss to his jaw as he tries to catch his breath.

“Sorry. I got carried away,” she says.

Peter smiles. “As you often do in positions of power.”

She feigns an offended expression and pokes his side, making him jolt before flipping their position, leaving her on the bed beneath him. “And yet, you like to be under me just as much. It’s curious,” he teases.

Catherine flushes and glares at him, though there isn’t an ounce of venom behind it. “And here I thought we were having a wholesome, romantic moment. Must you make everything sexual?”

“Yes,” he replies simply. “And you love it, too.”

She pauses, hums, like she’s considering it. “I suppose you’re right. I have a meeting in an hour. Let’s make it quick.”

Peter dives beneath the skirt of her nightgown eagerly, and Catherine ends up ten minutes late for the aforementioned meeting.

[izvmimi]

cw: angst. mermaids. childhood friends. a/n: picked @strawberrystepmom's brain and came up with this. based on her super cute commission from @/54prowl

you hear the tinkle of a bell that announces his arrival under the moonlight, and without holding your breath, dive down again, just below the surface of the pitch dark water gently sloping against the rocky shore.

from here you watch carefully. at this depth you know the young man can't see you for sure yet, although just years and a couple months before tonight, the bright reflection of your tresses flowing too superficially had revealed your existence, drawing his attention to the very point where you lurked shyly before you sank further into yourself and into the belly of the sea.

after that day you were no longer a secret, or secret admirer, for that matter.

you confirm that it is, in fact, the young boy you've known most of your waking life, now older and more familiar to you, who has arrived and let your tail propel you closer, yet still quietly, to the point where land meets sea. there, you see him gently set down his bicycle as he has so many times before and step carefully but surely to the deep water, then sink into a sitting position, staring at the half-moon. he's waiting for you, fingers thumbing the newest shiny rock you've left for him at your special place.

when you raise your head with a soft splash and look at him, smiling, he smiles back. as usual, he tells you about his day, and you listen intently, eyes bright and ears hungry for any bit of conversation he has to offer you. after years of meeting like this, his voice no longer is an incomprehensible song to you, some words holding meaning that allows joy to bubble up into your chest.

hello, i missed you, are you well? i had a nice day, did you?

you've learned how to shake your head no and nod yes, opting for the latter twice as often. you've learned what the young man means when he motions with his hands, and you've learned his name is wakatoshi, enough to whisper the name with your lips.

wakatoshi talks to you often, even if you can't always engage him back.

sometimes he brings presents. today he's brought you something sweet, a bread with a paste inside it, and smiles softly as your eyes widen with every bite, as delighted as the first time. other days, he reads aloud to you from the pages of a book, and once he's brought you the same book with the pages laminated as though you could leaf through the pages in your free time.

(you wish he would teach you to read, and perhaps you would write him letters.)

today, he repeats a new word, and from the way he pronounces it and his eyes soften, it sounds like a name. he says it so dearly and kindly, but it doesn't sound like how he calls your name, mermaid, even though wakatoshi calls you this with affection.

"mermaid, i made a new friend," he tells you. you thought you were his friend, but you've since learned that humans sometimes have many.

you nod, and he repeats the name of the friend again and again and again all night, then the next night, then the next night.

the full moon arrives eventually, and there are two bells. you hear wakatoshi's voice, and a new voice, unrecognizable, and you wonder if you should hide or meet as usual. there is a string of pearls you've made that you've set in your special place. humans like pearls, diving often from that. you believe wakatoshi will like these too.

wakatoshi descends with a young woman who looks an alarming amount like you. your stomach turns, and you're still not sure if you should approach, but he calls your name, mermaid and you gently swim to him.

the young woman looks at you with curiosity, then whispers something to him. he smiles.

"mermaid is one of my closest friends, ___."

that name again, you hear. this is the other friend, whose name he says differently than yours. she nods, not much unlike you, and adjusts her dress to kneel on bare rocks that scrape her skin, all to greet you. she stretches out her hand and smiles but its warmth is not the same as wakatoshi's. you look at him, and he looks concerned that she is kneeling, urging her up.

"hello, mermaid."

you don't like how she says your name, but take her hand anyway and squeeze it. it's dry to your wet, but softer than wakatoshi's.

"hello," you repeat. your voice is unpracticed but mesmerizing nonetheless and she seems enraptured by it. she peels her eyes away to look at wakatoshi.

"she's beautiful," she utters.

wakatoshi agrees, and you swell a little with pride.

"she's very special to me, and i've known her for a very long time," he explains. the woman nods in acceptance, but slower this time, then gazes at you again, mouth slightly agape.

you would be prouder if not for the fact that wakatoshi then holds her hand tightly, fingers interlocking with hers in a way that he's never done with you.

they both sit, and he talks to you as usual, but you've learned something new from him.

and in that moment, you wish you were still a secret.

---

her pearls, your pearls, gleam brightly around her neck.

[kimberlyannharts]

actually I would love a rant about how JJ sucks as a character

Merry early Christmas to you then, Anon!

Like I think what makes everyone clutching their pearls over the sanctity of JJ’s character and place in the canon so ridiculous is he is barely a character in the first place.  He is a plot device in SotD, a narrative goal for Tommy, as the story wasn’t about JJ developing into someone worthy of the Dragon Shield or even an SPD cadet - he's already done all of that. The story was about Tommy realizing he should retire and hand over his stuff already.  And you have a son who’s pretty good at being a ranger, so……….he should take it!  Great!  That’s it. I genuinely don't know why they didn't do some kind of Goofy Movie-esque father/son journey together, especially if you really wanted to discuss this idea of him feeling like he's in his dad's shadow. His existence in the show amounts to namedrops and one voiceover line in the Ninja Steel special, and the only bits of characterization these amount to are he’s a kid who goes to karate camp.  To me it comes off like people are attached more to JJ’s POTENTIAL as a character rather than HIMSELF as a character, in like a “well, maybe one day they’ll give him his own book/show/whatever” sort of way, which….it’s been five years since SotD.  Hasbro is gearing up to do a reboot and even then, as we’ve talked about many times, they don’t want to put focus on cop characters.  Unless some stuff is getting retconned, I am not holding my breath.      

The reason I call Minh the superior legacy character by comparison is because there actually was time and space dedicated to showing how she stands out as a person and a character beyond her being Trini’s daughter; in fact, her being Trini’s daughter is the least interesting part about her (in no small part because Trini herself was handled very badly by that special.)  What makes her interesting is her personality, her relationship with Zack, how she’s suddenly thrown into the deep end of the PR world by way of great tragedy, and her arc from a vengeful kid to a true hero (the special’s shaky writing of this arc notwithstanding.  But at least I get what they were TRYING to do here.)  JJ did not have anything CLOSE to that.  

Something else about him that’s funny but also frustrating because it’s obviously not intended by the writers, but still happens WAY too often for my liking, is how his existence is honestly a detriment to a lot of women in this franchise kjkfdj he was the catalyst for the old SPD ranking drama, as him being green meant Syd and Z had to stay as pink and yellow (and no, them throwing in some random female OC no one remembers as blue does not make up for it.)  And then….Kat……well…..I think this belongs in a discussion that covers more than just JJ, as in a way how they handled Trini in OaA is a very similar situation, but the fact of the matter is that since JJ’s inclusion in the canon Kat’s existence has boiled down to being his mother rather than a veteran ranger with her own life and work, no matter how many times the show and books TRY to be like “No look!  See!  She’s a super cool badass wife who keeps everyone in line!  She’s off doing her own things, too, we swear!”  my brother in Christ the same 30th anniversary story that tries to show off how cool and independent she is ALSO has a scene where she’s like “it’s okay honey, you take care of the Ranger missions while I stay home with JJ, it’s fine :)”  They’ve made it very clear that JJ is Tommy’s son, Tommy’s legacy, while Kat is his stay-at-home caretaker, WHICH IS FINE FOR A WOMAN TO BE, but not in this narrative, where Kat’s time as a ranger is treated as irrelevant compared to Tommy’s. (A good example is how, in SotD, only Tommy was listed as JJ's emergency contact, with no mention of Kat. I'm almost certain there was an early draft of this book where Tommy did not have a wife.)  How do we have two (2) comic stories where we have married TomKat but Kat doesn’t morph.  And not as a plot point or character bit or something (I think it actually would be very interesting if Kat not having much attachment to her time as a Ranger was actually intentional) but just in a “we don’t feel like involving Kat in her husband’s adventures” situation.  Hello????????  I know that kind of feels off-topic to why JJ sucks but trust me, it’s partly his fault.  And it’s why I’m making such a big deal over the potential mother/daughter Ranger teamup for Kim and Olivia, because the alternate mother of Tommy's alternate kid has gotten such a raw deal.     

And the SPD/Dragon Shield combo is ugly.

[jamneuromain]

I Knew You Were Trouble

Steve Rogers x Reader (You)

Life Lesson:  There's always going to be a coworker that you don't like.

Warning: Cursing? A lot of cursing (?

A/N: This is my entry to @ronearoundblindly's Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge <3 Based on the inspiration from Eclipness. I mostly do the editing work :3 Basically some short snippets of your life being a task force leader in the Avengers.

*

Past

You heard of the funny business, that Rhodey commenting on Peter Quill, the legendary Star Lord, “So he’s an idiot?” To be honest, even if you are barely the type to joke around and have fun at the workplace – mind you, you work for the Avengers, the place that a single mistake could cost the lives of millions if not billions - you could barely keep the amusement off your face for three full days after you heard the anecdote.

“You’re laughing now, but I’m telling ya’,” Rhodey sipped his coffee, his words were more of a warning and a piece of advice to you, when you both and seven new recruits happened to be in the coffee room during the break and Rhodey shared his experiences in past missions, “sooner or later you’d figure there’s someone dumb as hell and you’ll feel the exact same way.”

The new recruits burst out a new round of laughter, but you shook your head with a small smile. The warmth of your coffee mug prickled your fingers slightly as you picked it up, “I’m sure it is not as bad as it sounds. We have the best agents here in the compound. They are the best of the best of the best.”

You knew Rhodey for a long while now. In fact, he was one of the instructors in your early years of army life. However, it wasn’t until later that the Avengers Initiative became more stable that he introduced you to this line of work, when all the other Avengers are either too busy or too incompetent (and yes, Rhodey was referring to Tony when he used this word) to lead a special task force that dealt with missions that were not quite Avenger’s level, but tricky if put in the hands of normal agents and squads.

And for the record, Rhodey wasn’t talking about anyone specific this time when he said “someone”.

While you thought otherwise. Sure, there will always be an annoying coworker or colleague at work, but you were certain that you could keep it professional.

Oh boy Oh. How wrong you were.

**

Now

“Cap has been on this mission for six months, and now he needs your help on this lead.” Sam, who has been like a big brother since your arrival, and even more brother-like when he knew about your army life, opens the conference room door for you. He flashes his pearl white teeth, “Debriefing starts in two minutes. I know this is your first time working with him. Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.”

The glass door opens, and there stands Maria, mission dispatch officer of the Avengers Initiative, who simply nods and gestures you to sit down, checking her tablet and probably taking notes on her brief later. Your task force teammates sit on either side of the table, talking or minding their own business.

“Good luck!” Sam waves and disappears down in the corridor.

A few seconds and Maria still hasn’t started debriefing.

“Maria, do you need a couple of minutes?” You ask in confusion, seeing that Maria has no intention of introducing your next mission.

Maria raises her head from the tablet, blinks in confusion, before realization hits her, “we’re still waiting for one more.”

Debriefing was supposed to start three minutes ago.

No matter who comes through that door next, you’re going to show him, or her …

“Sorry everyone. There’s been a little incident downtown.” Steve Rogers, the blonde bulky super soldier rushes through the door, crashing himself down the chair beside you, “hello, you must be the leader of the task force. I’m Steve. Nice working with ya.” As he extends his hand.

You shake his hand out of politeness, while Maria starts pulling out the map of hostile locations where the lead points to.

It’s hardly likely for you to show him … some moves or anything.

But Captain Rogers is one of the greatest soldiers ever walk the Earth.

It’s going to be pleasant working with him, right?

… right?

***

The first mission that your task force is on this lead, you hand Steve full authority of commanding you and your unit.

Literally every recon mission you have been on, whether leading the task force or when you were in the military, was orchestrated perfectly. You get in, gather the info, and get out. Easy peasy.

But no.

You heard of the saying that goes around in the compound. “Every recon will turn into a full-on engagement.”

Whoever says that remains anonymous, but it’s no secret that these missions refer to Captain Steve Rogers.

It was an urban myth, you thought. How can someone as experienced as Steve Rogers, a man who has been through actual World War II, could make mistakes and blow up a simple recon?

You were proven wrong.

“Coming in hot, four o’clock!” Steve shouts as he blocks an RPG with his vibranium shield, explosion and dust wrap around him and engulf him in flames.

You curse under your breath, hands steady on your sniper rifle and take out another guard on the gate.

It wasn’t his fault, nor your teammates’. When the recon became an engagement with hostile members of this organization. It was … purely bad luck?

When some guard hit the panic button, setting the entire place in lockdown, and yelling in the comms that he couldn’t see his pal heading to the bathroom on the security cams.

But still, this NEVER happened before.

You join the messed up battle field as Captain Rogers plans for extraction, which includes getting in the RV (seriously, RV? These bad guys sure know how to have fun) and blasting the concrete walls using the new plasma cannon that you snatched from the bad guys’ weaponry room.

“Do we know how far is the blast radius of this thing?” You are in favor of getting out, but you aren’t in favor of killing yourself when getting out.

“We’d have to wait and see then.” Captain Rogers says in extreme optimism, covering your six when you and your teammates cram in the bus-like RV.

David, the mechanic expert in your team, plops up the skylight with the help of his teammates, holding the dangerous cannon and nodding to you, “we’re ready.”

“On my mark, go!” Captain Rogers hops on the RV as well, and tells you to drive.

The firing gradually ceased, as the enemy agents sure are baffled as well why you are driving towards a wall.

“NOW!” He shouts to David, who steadies himself and fires the cannon with a spectacular aim.

Oh, the plasma bomb-thing hits the wall alright. It blasts a hole with a radius of ten miles, taking down the whole wall with it, and burning a few yards of trees near the castle as well.

You hit the gas pedal and go through the hole – technically there isn’t a hole. There used to be a wall. You take the RV through the empty space which used to be a wall, and get out of sight of the enemy agents.

While your teammates lie down and rest, some taking care of their wounds with a first aid kit they found somewhere, you spare a glance at Captain Rogers. Ash and dust smear his pretty face, hair all tousled and his helmet lost – again, you heard that the equipment room produces ten helmets per month for him, just because he’d lost one somewhere almost on a daily basis during the mission.

And you know. You just know.

He’s reckless as hell and you won’t enjoy working with him.

Not one bit.

****

He hurries on the Quinjet before you and your task force take off.

“What’s this mission?” He speaks to you in a low voice, placing his shield near his feet, taking a seat right next to you.

“Caribbeans. For the felon codename ‘Tower Gate’.” You fasten your seatbelt, instructing the pilot to take off, “I thought you were on another mission?”

“Tower Gate? I thought he was in Spain?” He furrows his brow in confusion.

You clench your jaw, trying to make your voice sound calm, “the last mission when we,” you point at you and him separately, “were pursuing Tower Gate in Spain, and he got away, was six months ago.”

“Oh, right.” He pauses for a moment, clearly taking in you and your teammates suit up as divers, “what’s with the suit?”

Inner peace. You tell yourself. Inner peace. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“You didn’t get briefed?” You eye him, almost speechless, trying not to sound mad, “we are going to dive into the ocean to approach the island. Does your heavy armor…” work in the ocean? Won’t it drown him???

That would be tons of reports to write.

“I’ll figure something out.” He smiles, leaning back against the cockpit when the plane hits a small turbulence and he sucks in air and rubs the back of his head with a painful expression.

You kind of know where he gets his crazy ideas from.

He probably banged his head a lot during missions without his helmet.

Speaking of, “where on Earth is your helmet?” You can’t help but ask.

An embarrassed smile lingers on his lips, “kind of … lost it. During the last mission, and equipment room hasn’t produced the new batch yet.”

“Lost it???” You raise your voice by an octave, “and you’re going on missions like this?? Without your helmet?”

He definitely banged his head a lot.

……

“I’m telling you, Maria. He has the worst intel, rushes in front of the whole team without even a proper plan in mind, and he keeps putting himself in danger, which I will not tolerate when I’m running missions.” You complain to Maria Hill, who looks thoughtfully on hearing your reasons to kick Steve out of your team, or stop running missions with you at least.

“I’m sorry, but Steve can pick his own missions.” Maria shrugs, “however, I can forward your opinion to him, if it helps.”

If it helps?

You huff and leave the room.

*****

“Hey, I think we’re supposed to go over the briefing for the mission tomorrow.” You are stopped by Steve Rogers on your way to mission dispatch center. He taps your shoulder and asks if you could join him in the conference room.

“But there’s no mission tomorrow?” You shake your head for clarity, “what’s the codename for this mission?”

“Code name Streetlamp.”

“That’s … Agent O’ Hare. O’ Hare is working on ‘Streetlamp’.”

“Uh… where can I find Agent O’ Hare?”

You know O’ Hare. Not so well, but you know him. He’s one of the new recruits at the time you were brought in. His office is right next to yours and you occasionally bump into each other in the coffee room.

“He’s … on leave.” You choose your words carefully.

“When will he be back?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“He’s got a mission tomorrow. Who authorized this?” Steve furrows his brows. Even though he’s extremely handsome, you still want to punch him in the face.

And you are extremely sorry for O’ Hare too.

You bet Steve is going to wake up in the middle of tonight and think about how he should have NOT asked you this.

“His father passed away and he headed back to his home to arrange the funeral.” You sigh, feeling the blood pumping in your head, “and you authorized his leave. You are the only person who can authorize senior agents’ leave.”

“Wait I do?”

“GO ASK THE HR NOT ME!” You exclaim in frustration, “I’m not your secretary!”

“Oh. Umm… okay. Have a nice day.” Steve looks apologetic. And it seems he is heading towards the HR department.

Jesus Christ. He needs a secretary or an assistant or something.

Why doesn’t he have one?

Why doesn’t anyone see that?

Is Avengers Initiative that broke?

******

Steve was wounded in action during a mission together.

Apparently, he still has the power to choose which mission he participates in.

Sure, he was wounded when he was crazy enough to draw fire from half of your opponents.

Two ribs, a cracked skull – see, you knew he’d get hurt when you realized his helmet has gone missing again – and a broken arm.

Touching. Truly. But you prefer it if no one gets hurt.

You went to the medic bay and sent flowers and shit, leaving shortly because you have leave for the mission briefing.

Out of curiosity.

Just out of curiosity.

That Steve decides to poke around the phone.

It should take two days to heal and he can’t really paint or read, with his headaches and the cast on his arm.

The small and handy phone seems like a way to kill time.

See, no one, and you mean no normal person, would check other people’s Whatsapp signature.

But Steve, being completely ignorant to modern day social rules, accidentally clicks in your profile and reads your signature: SGR is a big dumbass.

And your twitter, which he almost magically found, your twitter that was unattached to the rest of your social media, but he stumbled upon.

“Jesus F Christ pay ATTENTION this is YOUR mission brief???!!!”

“You are the team leader??? Could you TRY NOT to get us killed????”

The dates of the post miraculously click with the missions you went on together.

“Parachute. The fucking dude jumps off without a parachute. From the plane. WITHOUT A FUCKING PARACHUTE!!!”

“THAT FUCKING SHIELD ALMOST KILLED ME YOU CAN JUST TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO SPEAK AT MY FUNERAL”

“I should resign JFC I might get an aneurism for working with this dumbass”

“The helmet the helmet the helmet how many times do I have to say put the FUCKING HELMET ON”

And the one from the very start: “Maria asked me why the enemy fortress seems different on satellite image. What can I say? Because we BLEW THE FUCKING WALL and BURNT the ENTIRE FOREST DOWN???”

Steve would argue that he’s not a dumbass before he read all the posts on your twitter.

But now he doesn’t have any evidence to back him up.

He does sound like a dumbass when you repeat his actions in your tweets.

*******

You were hauled up in the middle of a night in your bed for new updates on your last mission. Afterall, villains work 24/7 and don’t care what time zone you are in.

You yawn behind your coffee mug, but the rest of the participants seem energetic when they are in Russia, adjusted to the local time zone already.

Steve, not surprising, was also in the meeting. The background of this online conference looks like his office in the Avengers compound. Clearly, he too is a bit disturbed by the conference at 2 am, as he tries to focus but you can still see the tiredness on his face.

Your phone pings with one new message as you yawn again, failing to cover your tiredness with your mug this time.

Steve Rogers: I heard that the Avengers Compound is haunted in the middle of the night ;)

You double check your surroundings.

You are at home, only that your online meeting background was set with a virtual office background, looking like as if you are in your office right now.

Focus on “AS IF”.

You chew on your lower lip not to reveal the smugness as you type back.

You: I’m at my house. But is there something just floated behind your back just now?

The next second, you see Steve panics and looking over his shoulders frequently, having Maria and Tony stop and ask him if everything is alright.

Nope. Everything is not alright.

You are completely wide awake at this point, as Steve blushes and tells them to continue.

You did not miss that he adds a jacket to his thin T-shirt as soon as the briefing continues. The super soldier serum does nothing to compete with the chillness coming from the bottom of his heart for fear of ghosts.

You hide your smug smile behind your coffee mug.

Steve Rogers. Fear of ghosts. HA!

Is Steve cute? Do you like him when you are not on missions? Sure.

Do you still think he’s dumb as hell and want to punch him in the face whenever you are on missions together? Hell yeah.

A work I hold dear: Attached

This, absolute this. This is the fic that started my madness of (writing for) Steve Rogers and dragged me down to hell of sinfully hot Professor Rogers :3 This is an absolute masterpiece that I'll forever hold dear (and definitely rush back to if I ever get an email saying that another chapter has been updated)

My work that I hope gets more attention: Wishful Thinking

I know it's yet to finish and dark and everything but def I hoped for more responses to a fic with a few chapters that I haven't managed to work out ;_;

[sky-squido]

hi hello let’s talk about legend and the master sword!!!

this newest update got me thinking. legend never seemed super attached to the blade before, but the way he defends it against both wind and four so vehemently? well, let’s look into it!!

this is so INTERESTING you guys, because like, yes, it’s LU canon that legend is grumpy and quippy

but he never actually like,,, explicitly hates his adventures themselves and especially not this one specifically!

the way he says “I’ve just been traveling the world to train but...maybe it hasn’t been all that good for me” in divine dark reflections implies that this is the FIRST time legend’s admitting that his experiences haven’t been unilaterally positive. and i mean.... look at him!!

let us not delude ourselves into seriously believing that this young man is not having at least a little bit of a good time.

most importantly, though:

this is after koholint!! this is post-koholint legend!! this is after his “bad experiences” and his “maybe it wasn’t all god for me.” and still!! he is like “aw heck no i’m not settling down—i want to adventure forever.”

*cough* maybe it was an adventure, is all i’m saying. like maybe legend had an adventure out there, on his travels, and they weren’t such a burden on him as one may think. but i have other posts on that. this is about the master sword and so now that we have this appropriate framing of legend’s character and how our boy feels about adventure, let’s explore his feelings about the Blade of Evil’s Bane!

so—and this is funny—legend wields the “Tempered Sword” (which is just a mild upgrade of the Master Sword, so it’s still technically the master sword, just not The Master Sword, because Sky’s is all squeaky clean and fresh off the Sacred Flame). But we don’t actually see the tempered sword for a while! It’s usually not drawn on his back like Twi and Sky’s sword are, until it pops into existence for the first time on his back in mipha’s journal.

but then again, legend doesn’t have a proper sword-holding-strappy-thing and it just kind of magically floats back there but we’re not gonna question it because i’m going to assume the master sword has the same magical disappearing-reappearing properties its sheath does (WHERE DOES IT GO WHEN THE SWORD IS IN THE PEDESTAL WAITING FOR THE NEXT HERO? WHERE DOES IT COME FROM ONCE THEY HAVE IT??) anyway, now that our boy has the darned thing, he barely uses it! i mean look at this!

so legend’s GOT the master sword, but he’s not quite so reliant on it as sky is. he’ll use whichever of his items he thinks is most useful, and if that’s not the sword, he doesn’t mind one bit. it’s just another tool in his toolbox, is my point.

but he’s very good at using it! oh, look at him go! let’s just appreciate it for a moment. gosh i love him. anyway, that panel in the top left is the first time he draws it, prepared to back warriors up as he duels the shadow for the first time.

cool! so legend’s master sword is just another item at his disposal. not too special, but not too shabby, either. so what does he think about sky’s master sword?

well, he greets her like an old friend (literally, he talks to her and calls her “old girl”), is appropriately mortified when wild “breaks” her, smiles fondly at her, enthusiastically suggests they upgrade her further, yet, when se sees Sky’s Skyward Strike, he doesn’t assume it’s from the Master Sword (“whoever sent that sword beam...”). he recognized sky’s master sword as his own, as as such, assumes he already knows everything about it.

he’s convinced it’s not gonna help because his didn’t help, and even when twilight gives his explanation, he’s still not buying it. he’s still assuming he knows this blade inside and out (”yeah, yeah, but—”). speaking of, he’s dubious the master sword will work like a moon pearl. he thinks there’s any item more adept at magic-purging than the master sword, and he’s used the darned thing. this shows that his master sword is definitely far weaker than sky’s. not that he believe that yet, but still, he’d rather hunt down sky on a chance than have twi run back to camp and grab his moon pearl for him because he’s willing to test twi’s theory that their swords are different (and maybe there’s just the slightest inkling of academic curiosity in play here, too, let’s be real).

he also, i shall note, doesn’t seem surprised or upset by time’s bitterness towards the blade, evidently finding it at least somewhat understandable. neither does he resent twilight’s implication that his master sword is somehow worse than sky’s or twi’s. still, though, that expression on his face when he senses Fi’s presence in there, and the warm grin when he holds her blade as a hylian again, and the way HIS SWORD IS GLOWING TOO WHAT IS UP WITH THAT JOJO EXPLAIN PLEASE

so legend’s not quite so emotionally attached to it as sky is, though he thinks of it as an old friend—albeit one he’s known for long enough to know everything about. then he’s confronted with the fact that there’s still a substantial amount he doesn’t know about this sword, uses sky’s, and then we see him slide full-tilt into the Master Sword Fan Club

before, he was dubious the sword could solve his problem. now, he’s convinced that the sword can solve this problem. he also says things like “you don’t get it“ and “you’ve never used the master sword“ and “i can’t believe you! you’ve used the master sword! don’t you remember how powerful it–“. he’s not trying to use logic or reason, he’s just going off the overwhelming power of the blade that he encountered before. he’s held her before, twice, as we’ve mentioned, but the way she was glowing in the forest, the way she purged the shadows from his form while he was wearing his own master sword, changed his opinion so drastically that he will fight both four AND wind over this. and look at him, look how familiar he is with his own blade, how used to it he is, how many times he’s used it, how he “yea, yeah,”’s twi’s “blade of evil’s bane” speech. to be so overwhelmed by the power of sky’s version that he can’t properly articulate it but will try anyway really shows how these two blades are in whole different leagues from each other. keep in mind, also, that legend’s has been upgraded. no wonder he called a hypothetical upgrading of sky’s version an “unspeakably powerful blade.”

and that’s something neat! both legend and four had experience with dark worlds and they were both FURIOUS when they found out that that was how twi was turning into wolfie. legend was dubious that the master sword outranked his moon pearl in terms of evil-banishing and he knew how evil-banishy his evil-banishing sword was. once he used sky’s, he had no doubt that it could handle this easily. four, who’s never used either variation of this particular evil-banishing sword, is utterly unconvinced that it’s going to do anything to help (yet he’s perfectly content to hold it with a moon pearl). while legend was open to the idea, having had experience with the blade before, four shoots it down immediately (and judging by the way the four sword and its pieces get tossed around and, it doesn’t have the same gravitas as the master sword).

in fact, legend is so gung-ho about his defense of the master sword now that it takes sky himself coming in and putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him down! legend was clearly willing to accept that the sword wouldn’t solve Everything at This Exact Moment (he did run around the forest with sky cleaning out all the monsters for a while instead of rushing the sword to twilight), but it’s The Principle Of The Thing.

anyway, that’s the story of how legend, connoisseur of magical artifacts and old friend of the master sword, found his awe and respect for the Blade of Evil’s Bane rekindled quite explosively and ALSO HE AND SKY ARE PALS HAVE I MENTIONED THAT (i have actually it’s right here)

okay i have to go now bye

[bigblueoctoling]

I still have a lot to say about Palette Colors so I'm saving that for another post, but before I go make that post [it'll be a long one] I gotta talk about the choices for the weapons themselves.

Pearl, Marina, 4, Callie, and Marie are all pretty much locked in place. Easy choices, they all track.

Why the fuck does Shiver have the tri-stringer and Frye have the splatana

They literally explicitly use splatana iconography around Shiver, it's what the attacks Master Mega does are based on. I don't like saying this kind of thing but it literally feels like they just Forgot that Shiver was the splatana one. Kinda ties in with them in general barely giving Deep Cut any attention in this game (I'm still gonna make a post about that, too). I would also argue Frye's combat style is more accurately represented by the tri-stringer, considering she fires multiple projectiles [the eels] at you.

Why does Big Man use a bucket? He's a caligrapher, shouldn't he use the paint brush? It's not like the paintbrush is an especially Sheldon-y weapon. For that matter I would argue the bucket suits Sheldon better, if only because he's a horseshoe crab (like a little bucket).

I suppose Octavio using a splatling makes sense from the angle that he tends to fixate on big oversized weapons. Murch getting the luna blaster feels like a very "we've got nothing else in particular in mind" sort of choice. Which is fine I guess but I have no strong feelings about it.

Eight's weapon being the Octoshot is stupid and genuinely pissed me off a lot. Like- from a strictly lore perspective, I would've given her a charger, it's the only weapon she explicitly mentions in the mem cakes and it's, you know, The Amiibo Weapon. In my mind Eight's main weapon will always be an E-Liter. That being said, gameplay wise, I understand not making it that because obviously Marie has to be the charger one.

But the fact that there are 11 palettes, one for each weapon, and they save the 12th, Eight's, for the veeeeery end, REALLY sets you up for disappointment. Like I would've figured it'd be like, you can make the palette yourself (main, sub, special, and colors), since it's (Your) palette. Or, to coincide with Eight's palette being Weird, that it would be a Random Weapon, maybe per run or even per floor. The latter would absolutely make it harder, but I think making it just A Second Splattershot is the most boring choice possible.

...All that being said, it bugs me a lot less than Shiver and Frye having swapped weapons. Like why even give shiver the sword motif if she uses a bow and frye uses a sword. Absurd.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello there, dear mods. I happen to be looking for some fics where Aziraphael and Crowley raise Adam together. Either that or they have their own child (not necessarily looking for mpreg here, they're an angel and a demon, idk maybe the almighty gave them a child? But I won't complain if you throw some mpreg there either)

Hi! At this point we have about as many #kid fics as there are on ao3, so go wild looking through our tag. Here are more to add to the apparently never-ending collection!...

Instructions Unclear; Seeking Divine Intervention by Alycat44 (T)

“The spare,” the nun says, passing the basket Crowley brought back to him.

“The what.”

Crowley wouldn’t get his answer, and left holding a basket with an infant he is fully unequipped for dealing with, he does the only sensible thing he could think of; he calls a nominally-friendly acquaintance for some help.

BlyBlythe by Dannye Chase (G)

Lonely lighthouse keeper Aziraphale Fell becomes father to a lost baby mermaid and falls in love with a pirate. Whoever said the lighthouse service was boring? The baby liked to play in the bay most of the day. They caught fish, which Aziraphale cooked for them both. The baby was a surprisingly fast crawler on land, using their arms and wiggling their tail. They liked to be chased. The first time Aziraphale ever heard the baby laugh was when he was jogging after them as they crawled across the lawn. It was a bubbly, cheerful sound that nearly melted Aziraphale’s heart. Aziraphale knew he could not keep thinking of them as “the baby.” A name was needed. "Pearl" seemed too obvious, as did "Stormy." That day on the lawn, hearing the baby laugh, Aziraphale picked the name "Blythe," which meant happy. Certainly, he himself had never been happier.

This Good News by kijikun (M)

Crowley and Aziraphale have received a very special delivery.

Omens of a Bright and Peculiar Future by AgentStannerShipper (T)

When angels were created, they were programmed with a sort of reproductive delay, intended to be used after the war. Aziraphale chose to remain on Earth, rather than return to Heaven, with the assistance of Crowley, his longtime-friend-turned-lover. Now both have to live with the repercussions of that decision.

They can't say they're unhappy about it.

Growing Up Ineffable by foolish__wit (T)

When a demon and an angel love each other very much they consult their witch friend to look into some more... magical options.

Unconventional love calls for unconventional conception. Ten years post the Armageddon that wasn't as well as two years of marital bliss have seen a certain angel and demon wanting to take the next step in their relationship, having children of their very own. But, this is an occult and ethereal being we're talking about, so everything relating to their little bundle of joy is a tad unusual.

Fledging by FeralTuxedo (M)

Cool Dad was at the school gate again. Clambering out of his ridiculous sports car like a great big spider, all black denim and designer sunglasses. What a prat. He made his way towards the entrance, followed by his equally lanky son. All the mums' eyes were on him. Which was fine. At least they weren't staring at Aziraphale for a change. Cool Dad high-fived his son goodbye, because of course he did, then sauntered back to his car. Making it look so bloody easy.

Aziraphale Fell is much too young to be looking after eleven-year old Pepper. He barely has his life together as it is, with his minimum-wage job and a half-baked dream of trading rare books for a living. And as if adopting a recently bereaved pre-teen isn’t enough, there are some rather more adult problems to navigate: playground politics, the shadows of his own childhood, and the growing question of how Crowley, the only other dad at the school gate, feels about him.

A human AU/kid fic.

- Mod D

[internationalteaparty]

What If? Kacy canon-divergent drabble #1

Wrote a Kacy drabble in 3 hours. Inspired by this post and this post.

Lucy's POV, 2nd. Angst (minimal) with happy ending.

It’s too much, all at once. She is singing to you, and it's too much.

You’ve always been like this. You feel too much, and don’t know what to do, how to respond with all that emotions swirling in your chest, your stomach, the tips of your fingers. So you do the first thing you think of then.

You walk away.

(You will later regret it.)

That night, once you get home and wash the day off of you, you think about secrets and vulnerability and the way she looks at you in the lights and the smiles she reserves for you behind closed doors and…you want to talk to her.

But it’s 1am and you think after the day you both had you figure you can call her the next day. You fall asleep, knowing you will hear her voice tomorrow. 

(You forgot to tell her she has a nice voice, when she bared her soul and sang to you. You will also regret that.)

You call her and for the first time ever, she doesn’t pick up right away. You fumble through a voicemail and go about your day with a nervous energy that reminds you of your first day at work.

Monday comes and still no response. You try not to let it get to you, but you can’t help but worry. It’s unlike her.

(You realize that even when you were butting heads with DIA Officer Whistler, she had never left you hanging like this.)

You come into the office and ignore the questioning look from Jesse and Kai. Tennant just raises one eyebrow, and you shrug. You don’t know what to say. You go down to Ernie’s lair to deliver his coffee. You don’t expect him to say-

“Hey, about what happened at the party, with the tall blonde FBI Special Agent, I didn’t think she would take it literally. Sorry. How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean you ‘didn’t think she would take it literally’?”

“I,” it’s rare when Ernie doesn’t seem to know what to say, “I may have…told her to? I told her to go big or go home and may have suggested serenading as a way. I didn’t think she would go for it!”

“What? Why would you do that?” you find anger rising in your chest, not because of Ernie’s meddling, but because you expect him to know you better, to know that you might not respond to that positively.

“Because!” he raises his voice, not angry, just trying to explain, “because you love her, Lucy. I know you. I know you do. And I don’t understand why you’re denying yourself of what you can have with Whistler. And because she loves you too.”

“You don’t know that.”

“That you love her? Or that she loves you?”

“You don’t know her as much as you know me. As I know her.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I can tell you with 100% certainty that she loves you.”

“How?” you hate how defeated you sound. You don’t know what you want anymore. You want to figure it out, to have an actual conversation with Kate, but here you are again, talking to everybody but Kate. 

Then he shows you the video. You look at her and can’t help but be amazed at her determination, at her vulnerability, at her love. Her love for you.

(A week after the Pearl Harbor celebration, you were both under the cover at her place, and she told you, through tears that turned into sobs, how she was never lonely because of Noah, how it was them two against the world, how scared she was when he was deployed overseas, and how she was a shell of a person after he died. You thought this was the most fragile she was in front of you, and you thanked her, for trusting you enough with this part of her, for telling you a history you were sure she didn’t want reminded of, and you tried to comfort her with soft touch and kisses.)

(And now, now she shared that part, even just a glimpse of it, to a stranger - an enemy, to coworkers, all so she could help you. And yes secrets are bad and you two will still need to have that conversation, but in this moment you know more than ever that you’re in love with this woman.)

A text from Tennant telling you both to go up startles you, and you realize you are crying. You wipe your tears and fix your make-up, and dare Ernie to say anything. He stays quiet, but his eyes are understanding.

When you go up to the bullpen, you all meet a new FBI Special Agent, one who says things like “Special Agent Whistler is on a special assignment” and “I will be the FBI liaison for the time being” and “no I don’t know how long this assignment will take.”

You think about your unreturned call and voicemail, and how her face fell when you walked away, and the ground feels like it’s opening up under you. You run on autopilot for the rest of the day to the team’s worried looks, with quiet anxiety beneath your skin.   

She’ll be fine, you think. You think about fractured ribs and minor head trauma and-

She’ll be fine.

You see her again three weeks later in the hospital. You don’t know what happened, can barely register the voices around you, just something about a bomb, and shrapnels. You think about that night under the cover, when she told you about Noah and how she would follow him anywhere. You pray she doesn’t, not now, not there.

You keep your eyes to the ground, ignoring Tennant and Curtis talking in a quiet voice, and the man sitting five feet away from you, who is apparently the freaking Director of the NSA, who “borrowed” Kate for a secret mission with one of his teams. Something snaps in you. You turn to him and your voice is low, containing nothing but anger and hurt and how he shouldn’t have taken an FBI agent, should just have used his people, should have looked after her better. Tennant tries to stop her, and Curtis looks uncomfortable, but the stupid Director just looks at her with quiet understanding, and says-

“I’m sorry.” and “You love her.” and when you don’t respond, has the audacity to reassure you. “She will be okay. She’s tough.” like he knows anything about her.

(Later on, when Kate is okay, and awake in a hospital bed with you right by her side, he will walk in to check in on her, a teddy bear in his hand, which he hands to her with a I love you, get well soon, Katie and Kate will explain to you how she used to hug a teddy bear when she was sick or hurt as a kid, and that he’s her father. You are still trying to process this.)

(She also tells you how she has called her father sobbing in an emotional breakdown about you, and he has suggested she comes to work on a case with him to take her mind off of you and take her away from the debacle she created that night. You shouldn’t have walked away.)

When the doctor comes out and says that she’s okay, and is expected to make a full recovery, you sag with relief. Kai hands you a water and some food. You sit by her bedside all night long.

A few days later, when she wakes up, you talk to her. You kiss her, like how you should have done that night, and you apologize. She smiles the smile only for you, and says it’s okay, because you’re here now and that’s all that matters. It shouldn’t be, but at the end of the day, you love her and she loves you and oh, isn’t that all that matters? 

(She will tell you how she hates being out of her comfort zone. You nod, you know this, because Kate tends to stick to things she knows. She will tell you how being with you makes her uncomfortable, because she is not used to an actual serious relationship, not used to being emotionally vulnerable, not used to sharing herself, but with you, oh with you she is willing to be uncomfortable, as long as you’re there. Because the reward is worth all the discomfort. You kiss her, and tell her how she lights a fire in you ever since that night at the bar.)

In another universe, that night you would walk away and Kate would be gone. In another universe, you would stop her and kiss her right there and then. In this universe, you walked away, but you still got her, forever and always. 

[tivalon]

Author's note: Finally Olaf's own lore fanfic! Might not be my best work, but I had to get it out of my system. And it was fun to write. Please enjoy. :3 More chapters will follow.

Nosing into the world

Chapter 1: A new life

The sun was shining bright onto the pearl of the desert. Ul’dah was very lively this morning, the streets were buzzing with customers. How could this wonderful day be any better? A well-known Elezen took a stroll through the crowded streets of his hometown, the morning sun warmed his heart. Tivalon cheerfully inspected all the freshly supplied market stands on the streets. He had already bought enough fruits and vegetables, and so the meat stand was his next destination. The butcher had quite exotic goods this day. His most astounding offering was a sad and frightened little anteater, held captive in a way too small cage. Its little snout peeked through the iron bars of its small jail. The tiny creature could barely move. It was scared, oh so scared. Almost still a baby, just barely old enough to survive without its mother. And he would never see her again. Poachers had brutally slayed her, then put him in a bag and taken him away to a faraway land. To a butcher in a desert city. And now said butcher proudly presented his brand-new wares to his customers. But unfortunately, the little anteater boy understood every word the tall ones spoke. Why? He did not know, but knowing his fate scared him even more.

Tivalon approached the meat stand. The offers were quite amazing, and what was that peculiar little animal? The butcher happily greeted his best customer. “Welcome Ser Tivaris, how may I serve? I can present to you a very special delicacy, perfectly fitted for soup or barbecue.” The tall Elezen inspected the tiny creature in its cage. Oh dear, life surely has played you dirty, huh. The helpless animal was frightened stiff and stared at the huge creature before him. He had never seen anything like that. The tall man could crush him in an instant. And the tamandua did not want to die. Of course, he could not have known that today was his lucky day, today would be the day he would meet his gentle-hearted savior. Please, please do not eat me. I have done nothing wrong. Mama, Mama please help me! Tivalon was beyond shocked. The animal could talk? Or, more like, think? Most likely Hydealyn’s blessing, a side effect of the echo. The little anteater’s fright and misery touched his heart, and Tivalon made up his mind. So it was settled. The Elezen bought the little tamandua and put him carefully in his basket. And so the tiny creature was carried away to an unknown future once more.

Finally, the two arrived at Tivalons home. The man put his new companion carefully onto the soft cushions of his couch. He stuffed his groceries into the pantries and returned to his newest family member. The little animal was shivering with fright as the huge man slowly kneeled before him. Please, please, do not hurt me. Do not eat me. I don’t want to die. “Do not fear, I will not hurt you. I will certainly not condemn you to my cooking pot.” Is .. is that even possible? Does he understand me? “I have no idea how this works, but yes, I can understand you. My name is Tivalon Tivaris, very pleased to meet you, little one.” Slowly the little anteater relaxed. One of the tall ones he could talk to! What are you going to do to me now? “You have suffered so much in your life already; nobody should live through so much pain. Come with me, I will show you the beauty of life. Let’s travel the world together, for it is full of wonders.” The tamandua could barely believe what happed. Thank you, Tivalon. I will never forget what you did for me. “Tell me my dear, what is your name?” The anteater was thinking for a short while. The concept of a name was new to him. I don’t have a name. Will you give me one? Tivalon took a good look at the little one. “So you shall be named Olaf. Welcome to my family.” From this day on, they anteater and the Elezen were inseparable.

[lunartearrose]

Envisioning goggles finding tartar's barely living ai carcass instead of marina

He just smiles as it rambles like a madman - default expression all the way - and it asks why its plan, how its plan could have failed, how it lost to goggles of all idiots.

"Dunno. Maybe it's because i have friends. Maybe it's because i didn't kill thousands of people. Maybe it's because i didn't plan to kill thousands more - people with best friends, families, lives. Didn't your humans have all that?" Goggles says.

Tartar thinks - and maybe thinks for a moment he has made a grave error in calculations. Maybe. Regret or no, he needs a place out of weather. "Perhaps you can give me a closer look."

Goggles is still smiling. He leans over tartar a bit more.

"My friends mean the world to me. Headphones, bobble, specs, rider, hachi and the rest... and you wanted to kill all of them."

He puts a foot on the tartar box. It creaks slightly under pressure.

"You put hachi in the hospital. You put rider in the hospital. He can barely see right now, and the docs don't know if his sight will come back."

More pressure. The box is breaking more, crunching down like a soda can.

"Turf war means the world to him. You have no idea what you're talking about when you call it stupid. "

Gears and circuitry start to pop as tartar pleads for goggles to stop. That it'll do anything.

"Anything?" Goggles asked, and paused for a second.

Tartar stammers out, "riches. Turf prizes, anything, I'm sure it is acheivable with my resources-"

"How about a cure for sanitization? Bring back all the octarians you zombied." Goggles says.

"That's impossible- there must be something else you-"

Crack. Goggles brings his foot down hard on the box, breaking it open. Fizzling sanitizer ink leaks out, too weak to form any attacks, too weak to do anything but dry out in the sun.

"That's what I thought you'd say. Either way, i think you deserve to have your dreams crushed - just like theirs were. Okay?" Goggles grinned, dragging his foot in the dirt, smearing that sanitizer and sparking circuitry into the ground. His expression and tone remained sickeningly sweet - he refused to let this box get any joy from his pain.

And of course, just to be thorough, goggles grabs a nice big rock, and continues to kick around and gut tartar's machinery, taking his time crushing the villain to dust. He talked over the robotic screams.

"I don't care if you say it's impossible, either - I'm gonna look for a cure. It's not fair to them, to suffer for something you did. Maybe some sun will help! I mean, your sludge dries so quickly in the heat. Maybe I'll bring rai and hachi to the beach! Maybe marie's special charger ink could fix em. Anything’s possible."

And once the circuits are crushed, and slime is all dried, With no more sounds coming out of anything, Goggles picks up the empty phone box shell.

"As for you... you're the biggest idiot I've ever met, thinking I'd take a killing stranger home. I'm glad you're gone." Goggles said.

A ways away, he hears the call of the other agents, plus off the hook looking for him. He kicks some dirt and leaves over the remains, and trots over to give Marina the remains of the phone box.

"The heck were you doin' out here alone, anyway?" Pearl asked him.

"Just trying to feel better. This whole mission was really stressful..." goggles answered.

Marie glances between him and marina, who was studying bits of the box excitedly. "Did it help?" She asked.

Goggles shrugged. "A bit. But i think food will help better!"

Anyways just sayin' goggles should be allowed to have feelings and also vengeful bastard moments. He should be able to have a Shadow goggles moment or two, a bit of the true self exists in the false self etc. Etc.

[alchemania]

HI I'm still in mourning about Mimi and I'm tired of pretending I'm not!!! So to cope I'm going to post hcs and yell into the void YIPPEE let's get goin'!

•Mimi is about the same height as Kokomi, but she's wider (Genshin is afraid of curves and hips but I am not and thus!!! I bestow them upon my baby)! Has a bit of a belly (she's squishy!! friend shaped!! she gives the best hugs ever)

•Her voice claim would be Lisa Ortiz in English (4Kids era Amy Rose AKA my FAVORITE Amy Rose good GOD Lisa KILLED it as Amy)

•She loves to sing and moves to Fontaine to become an idol (just like Kuki she wasn't happy being a priestess), sends Kokomi letters frequently.

•Personality wise she basically acts like Yoimiya in my head - a bit childish and bubbly and very excitable but also emotionally intelligent- she also says silly little catchphrases when she's taken aback like "great googly moogly!" or "oh my goodness gracious". She's very sensitive too, cries really easily. Please do not yell at her.

•Huggy touchy! If you're friends with her prepare to be leaned on, hugged from behind, gentle hands to the shoulder to comfort, and a kiss to the cheek every time she says hello (Mimi says I love you like it's a greeting she's so so openly affectionate she has SO much love to give)

•In terms of team role, she'd be a DPS/CC (because we barely have any hydro wise + cutesy/frilly aesthetic girl who hits like a truck is my favorite trope), I'm thinking her burst would be something like a tidal wave and she's like "THE OCEAN TAKES NO PRISONERS"/"Whirling waves, WASH AWAY IMPURITY!" (She means business in battle.)

•Her favorite foods are sweets she's a sucker for any dessert (I think her special dish would be smth that looks like sango pearls although I don't know what. I saw a cute edit of her dish being the taiyaki too just dyed pink). She's not really picky about food tho if it tastes good, it's going in her tummy.

•In terms of friends she gets along with basically all the resistance + Beidou and she's on good terms with Yoimiya as well! Also she has THE fattest crush on Kazuha (I'm going to carry this agenda on my back until I die because I shipped them from way back during the leaks and I ain't about to stop now!)

•She moves and grooves when she's happy I'm talking hops up and down, flails her hands, squeals, etc. Might even grab your hands and hop up and down with YOU if she's exuberant enough!

•She really likes frogs! .. I have no explanation for this it just feels right. Aight?

•Likes to give gifts! She'll pick up things and give them to her friends like "i saw this and thought of you C:"

•Very much an optimist, though not naively. She simply chooses to believe that in spite of the cracks and imperfections of the world it is still overall beautiful, and so are the people: you just have to look for them. Mimi also believes that there is potential for good in almost everyone (keyword POTENTIAL. NOT that everyone IS good, but if they choose to be, they could be); and that everyone deserves a friend (I really like the idea of her reaching out to Heizou, since he doesn't really have a lot of them. I think she'd be ride or die for him tbh)

•Will make crowns out of Sango pearls and put them on and twirl around! Puts them on other people too . Joy!!!! Crown be upon ye!!!

[damejudyhench]

💬💬💬💬💬💬 (hahaha yeah that many)

You asked for it…

💬That was wonderful, Captain. And what I said before, what we have… it’s no bad thing. I meet your needs, you meet mine - the Equation is balanced. It’s Verity.”

Max didn’t sound happy, but he sounded sincere. It was the Scientifical ideal of a relationship, Pearl knew; mutually beneficial, rational and productive. Back on Earth, she would have said it was her ideal, too; but she knew in her heart that there was a reason she’d never actually committed to it. And she knew why her own pride was wounded. Max was driven, hot-blooded and passionate, but he was still a Vicar of the OSI, and it had been foolish of her to hope for any different.

“That’s all we’re here for, huh? The Equation.”

“We are all part of the Equation, and through our actions we bring humanity closer to its ultimate fulfilment, yes. For example, from a teleological perspective, your purpose was to bring me to the scholar.”

“That’s from your perspective too, though. It’s funny how the Plan always seems to line up with what you want.”

There was real pain in his voice as he replied, and Pearl found herself wishing that they could talk like this at other times, times when they weren't fucked out and half drunk on the floor.

“Because my purpose is to solve it! My life has been dedicated to understanding the Grand Equation. Without that I have… nothing.”

“That’s your choice.”

Max sighed. “Not from my perspective.”

💬 The Captain liked to earn her bits and then spend them freely, and so she’d taken several rooms on the top floor of the Sprat Shack. Back when they had first arrived, and it felt the way he imagined a vacation might. Before Lucky Montoya’s puzzle had unfolded to reveal the truth of Gorgon, like one of those beautiful plants on Monarch whose petals concealed pods containing gastric acid and small bones.

💬Milo stepped forward.

“I’m skilled in combat - I was an extra on three seasons of Broken Jaws & Broken Hearts!”

Max scoffed. “Broken Jaws & Broken Hearts is utter nonsense. The tossball on display is ludicrous, and there are so many orgies it’s a surprising that anyone even has the time left over to play.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about it, Max.” Felix grinned. “Maybe I should check it out?”

“I was merely watching for research purposes,” Max snapped.

💬Unlike the cold steel corridors the floor is carpeted, and as his feet cross the threshold a sense memory assails him. Approaching the altar, barefoot and bare headed, the first time he was anointed.

(I just really like writing Max ok ok. Here’s some non TOW stuff)

💬The pleasure in her belly and the blood in her gut makes her feel sick and light headed all at the same time, like learning to smoke cigarettes.

(Midnight Mass)

💬They talked about the weblum, then about the balmera, which was apparently even bigger. All the creatures on Coran’s planet sounded fairly large and terrifying. He’d fought a lot of them,apparently, sometimes armed with energy weapons, once entirely naked and carrying only a knife. It sounded like some kind of special forces training, and his outfit did look a little like a sci-fi version of one of those Crimean war numbers, with the buttons and the long tails.

Then they talked about earth animals and their respective sizes, and how animals used to be much larger, and Malcolm realised with relief and delight that this guy truly had no idea who he was, or what a dinosaur was. Being able to talk about them in the abstract like ninety nine point nine percent of the population could, can you believe there was a crazy billionaire trying to clone dinosaurs, can you believe it, ha ha - it actually really helped.

(My VLD/Jurassic Park crossover. Genuinely proud of this for making It work)

[sleepyowlwrites]

find the word tag CCCXXIV

honestly some of these tags are months old. I write them down and hoard them because I'm afraid of doing them all at once and bombarding people. on an unrelated note, I despise the word familiarly because it's hard to say and sounds weird. I despise the word similar because I always type an extra i after the l. @spacetimewraithwrites (I don't even bother tagging you back, I just except you to do the tag)

length (the grave diggers (from the future!), 2021)

Sanders unzips the door of the truck and it falls open, revealing the void behind. “Paperwork is a good time. Especially feeding the cabinet.”

“It doesn’t bite your fingers?”

“No?”

“Huh.” Darryl tosses the hose into the void. “What makes you so special?”

“I have very long arms.”

Darryl rolls his eyes. A voice yells out of the void. “Do NOT dump your belongings in the hall or I swear I’ll report you!”

“You’re making Pumpkin mad.” Sanders holds the bucket at arms length and hands it through the void. Eventually he takes it back out, but the tools are gone.

late (dirt in the doing)

Jet has just enough room in his apartment for a second person, and maybe a third if someone else wants to chance the couch, but he doesn’t think he could withstand knowing that three people are sharing his place. If Copper is sleeping over, that leaves no emotional space for anyone else.

Even, or perhaps especially, if for some reason there’s an exhausted Rune standing in front of him at eleven o’clock at night, and Copper is indeed already asleep on Jet’s bed.

“It’s late,” is what comes out of Jet’s mouth. Apparently his filters flee the scene the second Rune is there.

“Yeah,” she says, angrily. Angrily? Jet does not have the energy to spar with an angry Rune.

“Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Can I stay over?” Her words overlap with his and Jet has to take a second to process them.

“Copper is here.” Jet is standing with the door only partially open. It would be so easy to just close it.

Rune taps her teeth together behind her lips a few times. It’s like she’s chewing on her thoughts before spitting them out. Thoughtful. Jet doesn’t have the energy to make sense out of her emotions.

lay (summon story)

Zan hopped over the ledge and lowered himself into the pool without too much of a splash. The stone beneath his feet could barely be seen through the brownish water and algae growing, but what was visible was just as eerie as the statue’s eyes. Made of iridescent stone, the Pearl had long been so in name only. Age and grime had taken away its luster many, many years ago.

And he was adding to it. Zan scrubbed at his skin, not caring that his clothes were getting soaked. He would’ve had to wash them thoroughly to get rid of the blood anyway. He probably shouldn’t have kept his shoes on, but they were close to their end and he had wanted the excuse to buy new boots. With the coin that the night’s bounty would bring him, he would be able to afford it.

He clambered out of the cistern and the water dripping off his clothing was louder than his feet. Louder, though, was the sound of other feet scraping on the stones between him and the start of the finger alley he’d come through. Zan tensed and slid a hand into his shirt where his knives lay in pocket sheaths.

laugh (dirt in the doing)

Copper sighs a little, a smile blossoming on his face, transforming it from concerned understanding to extremely fond. “You know yourself perfectly well, you just hate to admit it. You hate to admit anything.”

Jet grunts, going along with that claim perfectly. “Is it strange, that she just appeared in my life and now we have sleepovers?”

“Yeah, it’s plenty strange. A lot about your life is strange. I don’t think that’s a reason to reject it, though.”

Jet laughs at that. Copper can find positivity in anything. “I hate you. Why do you always sound like you’re making sense?”

“I’m very smart,” Copper replies seriously, but he’s smiling right back. “And since I’m smart, I can tell that you that you are also smart, you just hide it by being angry. So stop that, and let yourself feel more things.”

lean (dirt in the doing)

Surprisingly, Rune is at the garage when he pulls up. Her back is leaning on the wall outside and she’s got something in her fingers. Jet hastily stows his helmet and shoves his keys into his pocket before walking over to her. Rune makes a very obvious note of his presence but doesn’t say anything, and just sticks the object in her hand between her lips.

Jet raises his eyebrows, confused when clear smoke is exhaled through her nostrils.

“It’s a personal diffuser,” Rune explains without prompting. “Helps me calm down.”

“Was Shadow riling you up? He’s in a bad mood today.” Jet takes his place beside her and leans back, staring at nothing across the street.

Rune fiddles with the diffuser before sighing, tucking it away into her shirt pocket. “No, Hawk has him doing something to keep him busy.”

Jet nods, wishing he had something to calm him down, too. He spent the ride here prepping for ruining her day, but it seems like she’s already having a bad one, so at least his news won’t come out of nowhere.

And then Rune says, “Max called me.”

The cool brush of evening isn’t nearly enough to stop the force of burning disdain Jet feels for this person he’s never met. He nods instead of speaking, afraid that he’ll simply explode.

lick (lights, 2013)

The sun had almost full set beyond the hill when he found me. I'd dared to hope, and now, he strode toward me. His legs ate up the ground like always but still it seemed an ageless moment before they stopped a few feet from my knees. My knuckles clenched the dry grasses encased in my fists until I realized I couldn't feel them anymore. With an effort, I released the grass, looking up at gangly-limbed boy in front of me.

I licked my lips - no words escaped. He stayed silent, as if only a sound from me could break the glass between us. My mind searched for the right thing to say - no words surfaced. One hand broke off more grass to crumble in my fist. Our eyes stared into the other's soul like all the words in the world could be found there, and read, and understood. Slowly, gangly legs folded onto the ground and my eyes lowered with his.

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