#snapshots series

[eikaprime]

Hello love your fics especially the snapshots series

Sorry for not replying faster! I got my flu and covid shots at once and stopped being a person. (I may not be a person yet but I can pretend I am).

I am really, really bad about accepting and responding to compliments. I am totally flustered, and every time I've looked at this over the past couple days I've broken out into a huge grin (including now!) and gone blank-brain about what to say. I think I'm obligated to drop a link to my discord ( https://discord.gg/bcq6SJGh ).

Seriously, though, it's appreciated. I worked really hard on that stuff (snapshots, hoo boy, I am gonna brag about that calendar thing FOREVER) and getting responses still, when the whole series is finished and probably buried 50 pages deep on AO3 at this point, just. *happy noises*

[critterbitter]

It’s a bit scary to think about the future, but with friends it’s a tad easier.

Masterlist of the pokemon shenanigans.

Also hehe… parallelism. It’s the squad’s “im about to plan mischief” pose.

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. there's nothing more romantic than travelling halfway across the world for the girl you love... even if it is two years late.

wc. 3.4k

tags. none really, yn is described as shorter than megumi, possible ooc for EVERYONE, lowkey forgot how to write halfway through, possible spelling mistakes and plotholes (pls still like my writing i beg)

a/n. im sorry i never really got round to answering the comments on the last post but i have added everyone to the taglist who asked. so i did write two endings but one was bad SO i stuck to this one only <3 i hope this is the right end to the series and thank you sm for the support over the last few months!! i will have a 'spin-off-ish' series focused on the students making the videos in the first place which i will add the link to on this chapter once it's up. this is for @ilovejugs69 ly pookie

previous part / series masterlist

“this is such a bad plan.” 

megumi let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the leather of the plane’s seat. an economy seat – much to gojo’s dismay – but there hadn’t been much time to consider other options, bar gojo buying himself a personal private jet and hiring a pilot all in the space of less than an hour. 

the dark-haired student clutched the arm rests as he felt his stomach churn in knots as the reality of their decision sunk in. it was a very last minute and muddled plan but gojo was desperate to see you again and megumi wanted nothing more than to have his family back – so when gojo offered to take them both to the other side of the world to find you, he agreed a little too quickly. spontaneity was not his thing and with each passing second he was remembering why.

gojo shuffled himself back in his seat, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he struggled with the small gap for his longer-than-average legs. if his height wasn’t drawing the pair any attention (which it certainly was), the uniforms and the sorcerer’s blindfold definitely were. he didn’t need his six eyes to feel the stares of strangers. 

“i’ve never had a bad plan in my life.” 

megumi scoffed at the declaration, rolling his eyes at the white haired sorcerer’s misplaced confidence. like it wasn’t gojo’s idea to send megumi on that mission alone that ultimately resulted in yuuji swallowing sukuna’s finger or his idea to prank nanami on his birthday that got both himself and the first years all detention. 

“don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” gojo lightly swatted megumi’s arm, wiggling one of his fingers in front of the younger boy’s face. “your mother will think i’m a shit dad and won’t come back.” megumi ignored the tightening in his chest at the casualness of gojo’s words.

“you are a shit dad,” he retorted, closing his eyes and willing the next seven hours to go by faster than they were. he didn’t hate flying, but he wasn’t the biggest fan, and the nerves that were building up alongside the nonstop chatter from the man beside him were definitely not helping.

gojo gasped and megumi felt him jostling in the seat next to him, he could only imagine the dramatics his teacher was pulling in public. it was best he kept his eyes closed. 

“that wasn’t very nice. god, teenagers and their angst these days.” 

megumi heard gojo mumbling loudly under his breath and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a cheshire grin on gojo’s face, daring him to take the bait and bicker like the mature adult he was. 

however annoying he may have found him, megumi knew that gojo was just as nervous as he was. the two, however, were just polar opposites in all aspects. so while megumi just wanted to spend the next few hours trying to sleep and hope he’d have the courage to face you when he woke up, gojo wanted to play avoidance by teasing him as if they weren’t travelling halfway across the world for you.

when megumi didn’t respond, to gojo’s disappointment, a silence settled between the two. with his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his uniform and head almost on gojo’s shoulder, the dark haired sorcerer attempted to finally fall asleep.

“do you think she’s mad at me?” megumi asked quietly after about five minutes. 

gojo hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the teenager almost asleep on his shoulder. “she has no reason to be mad at you,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster.

“she’s never messaged me back,” megumi countered.

“at least yours still go through.” gojo huffed lightly, an attempt at brightening megumi’s mood at the expense of himself but it only left both more unsettled at their predicament. he knocked his knee into the younger boy’s gently. “get some sleep, this is going to be a long flight.”

“if you just take a seat here, i will go see if ma’am is available. it’s so lovely to meet her family finally.” a woman dressed in formal attire gestured towards a small lobby waiting room with a bright smile. 

there was no one else in there apart from one middle-aged guy with a briefcase, newspaper in hand. gojo thanked the woman, hand on megumi’s shoulder as he led him into the back corner of the white minimalist room.

the sun had set by the time they’d landed and found your office building – something that gojo had forced shoko to send him. he hadn’t even had a chance to tell her what they were doing before he’d gotten on the plane so after she had a go at him for leaving her out of the loop and not bringing her too, she sent across the necessary details with demands for regular updates. 

“i bet she’s going to call security,” megumi sighed as he dropped himself down into the black leather seat, resting his head back against the wall behind him. between school and the plane journey, he’d been awake for nearly twenty hours and the stiff seat he was on felt like a pile of feathers. he was going to fall asleep before he’d even had the chance to see you.

gojo crossed one leg over the other, hands crossed behind his head. the teenager wanted to elbow him for his calm posture – he could have as well, he’d dropped his infinity the second the two had entered the building. the second the older sorcerer had stepped into the building he knew you were here, recognising the cursed energy that brought him a familiar comfort he’d missed. “why would she?”

megumi snapped his head in his direction, eyes opening to give him an incredulous look, “why would you say you’re her husband?” 

gojo waved a hand dismissively, “i basically am–”

“was. several years ago.” megumi countered and gojo’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his pupil to point out the obvious facts.

rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, gojo began to stand up and megumi was close to cracking a smile at his behaviour. the delirium of not sleeping was beginning to sink in. “okay, kid–”

“you’re here.”

gojo’s sleeves dropped just as fast as megumi stood up from his seat, both more alert than they had been all day. suddenly, the uneasy feeling megumi had had on the plane didn’t seem so bad, this was so much worse.

you’d barely changed since you’d left, bar your hair being a few inches longer. if the two looked closely enough at you, they’d realise you were just as wrecked with nerves as they were as you struggled to stop your hands from shaking.

when the receptionist had first come up to tell you that your husband and son were here to see you, your initial reaction had been to say she’d made a mistake… until the cryptic message shoko had sent you thirty minutes earlier started to make a lot more sense. 

she was the only one you’d maintained regular contact with after you’d left. initially you had gone on a complete no contact with everyone, refusing to even acknowledge that you had a life and a family in japan. you were scared and you’d chosen the coward's way out by running. it felt wrong to still have strings binding you to a life that was no longer yours.

but you missed her and you worried constantly about gojo and megumi, so you’d slowly built up messaging her once a month to every few days just to know everyone was still alive.

you had desperately wanted to take megumi with you but you didn’t have it in you take him away from his sister and, despite how you’d laid into him about how even he had limitations, you knew megumi was safer with gojo than you. in america, you were vulnerable to curse users and curses alike without the protection of any other sorcerers or specialist schools to help you.

the three of you probably looked like idiots to the other man in the room, all staring at each other too afraid to make the first room. it felt surreal to all be together again. you were afraid your longing to see them again had reached a point of insanity, and they were afraid of spooking you if they got too close too quickly.

megumi was the first one to make a move, stepping around the rows of seats and the centre coffee table till he stood a metre from you. “hi.”

your hand covered your mouth as you had to tilt your head up slightly to keep eye contact with the boy you’d raised since he was only a fraction of your height. you may not have changed but megumi had – both his height and voice – and the guilt of leaving him behind was overwhelming.

“oh my god, you’re so much taller than me.” you moved closer to him to gently grab ahold of his arms as you took in how much he had grown. there wasn’t a day that had gone by that you didn’t regret and feel guilt for leaving megumi and you only hoped he understood why you left him so suddenly. taking a step back, you gestured to his uniform, “what’s jujutsu high like?”

the words were bittersweet. what had leaving achieved apart from heartache? megumi was still a jujutsu student and gojo was still japan’s lifeline. maybe you would live a longer life in america, but was the life you had now worth the one you’d left behind?

“it’s…” megumi hesitated before clearing his throat, “it’s okay. there’s two other first years, yuuji and nobara. they’re alright.” you smiled at his words, flashbacks of your own childhood crossing your mind as you remembered the innocence of your first year. it was fun being in a class with two prodigies, you were mini celebrities in a world of rich and powerful sorcerers.

“i’m glad you’ve made some friends, megs,” the nickname rolled off your tongue too naturally and if megumi closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that you were all still in japan and you were just catching up after being away on a prolonged mission. you glanced to the other sorcerer in the room who had remained silent up until this point – although he had silently made his way over. “i’m going to go speak with satoru in my office and then can i take you out for dinner? to talk properly?”

megumi nodded a little too eagerly, “yeah, please. i’ll just wait here.”

“perfect. satoru?” the acknowledgement was all the strongest sorcerer needed to be following behind you, keeping a distance of several paces as you led him inside your office.

gojo rested his forearm against one of the large ceiling height windows in your office that overlooked the city. you had to be at least twenty stories up and the blaring of car horns was simply a hum, vehicles appearing as mini red and yellow dots on the busy roads below.

“nice view.” 

it was the first words he’d uttered in your presence and despite him being the one to initiate the venture to you, he had no idea what to say. this was likely his only chance to convince you to come back and he may have already screwed up by waiting as long as he had.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you pushed your door shut, leaving the two of you in the privacy of your small office. it was nothing special; a chair, a desk with paperwork piling up and no photos whatsoever. there was no trace that you even existed beyond these four walls.

“don’t i at least get an ‘i miss you’? i just travelled over ten hours for you,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room but your voice was no longer as soft as it was when you spoke with megumi. the teenager had done nothing wrong – he was part of the reason you left.

“it’s been two years.” he didn’t have to turn around to know that your arms were probably crossed in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side as you waited for him to explain himself. except he thinks his past offences of stealing all of the sweets before halloween were a little more forgivable than letting you leave.

his hand turned to a fist as he dropped it from the window, turning around to look at you properly. “i know.”

both of you stared at one another, neither of you speaking as you took the other in.

“you chose them over me,” you accused. them being both the higher-ups and the whole of jujutsu itself. you’d given him a chance to have a normal life – a natural life in which you’d grow old together and die of old age – and he’d chosen the short life where he’d likely die before he turned thirty.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he said and there was no malice behind the words though they still frustrated you. he was right to an extent, he’d sat you down after you’d finished school, just before he’d taken in megumi and given you an out. you chose to stay, fully believing that the two of you had already gone through your worst.

“i didn’t realise i’d always be on the losing side.”

“we weren’t always losing–”

you stepped closer to gojo as you held out your hand, counting each disaster after the other with your fingers, “haibara died, we almost died, geto defected, we took in megumi and the tensions between your clan and the zen’ins got ten times worse. you said you wanted to change jujutsu society and what had we done? i never knew if you’d come home to me after missions, it made me feel sick.”

“how do you think i felt coming home to a note?” you could count on your hands the amount of times you had seen gojo angry – and while he wasn’t all the way there he was teetering on the edge as he frustratedly lifted off his blindfold, throwing it onto your desk. in the same way you’d been desperate for him to hear what you were saying before you’d left, he was equally as desperate for you to hear him now. to see that he was here. “megumi? at least geto left for a purpose, you just left.”

it was an unfair dig – geto had committed mass murder, after all – but similar to the one that you’d pulled on him two years ago.

you clicked your tongue as you tried not to make it obvious how badly that made you want to cry, holding your hands up in surrender. “was it so wrong to want a life where i didn’t go to work thinking i would die? to want a future?”

“you were my future.” he sounded sad as he uttered them, and it looked foreign to see the gojo satoru look so dejected. there were only inches between the two of you now and despite the fact he towered over you, he appeared so small as he continued, “was i ever yours?”

memories of your late teenage years and early adulthood play out as a montage: from your first meeting when you’d both gotten lost on the train to school, to the tears you spilled as you finished writing your note and closed the door to his apartment for the last time. 

“of course you were.” your voice was shaky, no longer holding any bite. until the day you’d left, since you were sixteen, you’d never envisioned a life without him.

gojo’s hand reached out to push your hair back from your neck, the little white scars still tarnishing your flawless skin. it was taking all of your resolve to not collapse into his arms and have him hold you like you knew he would. you were sure you’d believe him this time if he told you he could protect everyone, that he was in fact able to be in six places at once and still come out on top. “come back with us please.”

“satoru…” you dragged off, looking away as you fought between listening to your rationale that reminded you that nothing had really changed and your heart that missed being in love.

“just come back,” he repeated, “are you going to tell me you’ve found someone else? that you enjoy your life here?” it was wrong and selfish, he knew it, to be convincing you the way he was – to even be here full stop – but he missed you and he wasn’t ready to let you walk away again.

“i can’t lose you.” hesitantly you pressed your hands to his chest. for a second he was scared you were going to push him away, but you didn’t, fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

“don’t be silly and travel halfway across the country then.” his voice was just above a whisper now as he brushed his nose against yours. “hey, look at me properly.”

you complied without any hesitation – you always did when it came to him. two years of no contact but your body still reacted on muscle memory to the sound of his voice. never in your life had you ever seen eyes like his, of course you hadn’t, and you were still taken aback by the full blue colour as he gazed down at you.

“tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” you did want him to. “tell me you want me to walk out of this room and not turn back and i’ll do it.” he wouldn’t have left without you.

“i missed you,” you whispered, and that was all he needed to duck his head down to let your lips meet. gojo’s hand slipped round to the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. you missed this, you missed him, and you were going to find it impossible to let go of him again.

only when your lungs ached to breathe did you force yourself to pull back from your ex boyfriend. gojo’s eyes were still focused on your lips and you didn’t doubt that if it were up to him, he’d be leaning to kiss you again. it was only the light push against his chest that held him back.

“what are we doing?” you asked, voice wavering from both the kiss and nerves. whilst there was no doubt in your mind that gojo was who you wanted, you had many reservations about reentering jujutsu society.

“about to ditch this place and go back to japan on a plane. all three of us.”

you brows furrowed together, “but–”

gojo held a finger up your lips, his other hand slipping into his back pocket, pulling out three plane tickets. “i already got your ticket, you don’t want it to go to waste do you?”

you lightly hit his arm and smiled up at him. he was grinning now and it didn’t need to be said aloud – he was yours again (though he’d never really stopped being such) and you were coming home. “that confident?”

“surprised you were able to resist me this long.” he pecked your cheek this time, a hint of tease in his tone like he hadn’t needed megumi to convince him to even enter your office building in the first place.

you let his joke slide with no rebuttal. “are you coming to dinner?” you hoped you hadn’t been keeping megumi too long.

“do you want me at dinner?” gojo asked.

you reached across to your desk to grab ahold of his blindfold and passed it to him. as much as you loved being able to see his eyes, you’d rather not be spending your first twenty four hours with him in bed complaining about a splitting headache. “i’m sure megs won’t mind. plus you can pay,” you added with a wink.

gojo raised an eyebrow, lips tugging up at the corners into a slight smirk, “oh so that’s the real reason why you missed me?”

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts @maliakealoha @cherrypieyourface @k4romis @monsieurgucchi @bofadeezs @777userz @polarbvnny @chonkercatto @tenshis-cake @haitanibros0007 @ba-ks @liaurokodaki @urfavvirg0 @lofasofabread @r0ckst4rjk @vee-ai @aiikuraa @melileli0001 @rinshoe @vinivave @yell0wdreams @sukunasleftkneecap @malikazz243 @sad-darksoul @giannitaa @maliciousmace @name-insert @splxtscreen @kimvmarvel @ieathairs @janbannan @ja-zz @vangoes @starringz @ciscob1tes @theoriginaluzisimp @thirtykiwis @vivienne2000 @whydohumansss @purpleguk @simeon-lovergirl @missesgojosatoru @loveroftheoldestdream @mkaiiserr kazbrkker ancientimes thefirst-ofus animechick555 saccharinelixir seunnimg kookonsale

super sorry if ive missed anyone!

[doctorsiren]

it’s them…

[strangergraphics-archive]

snapshots of eddie - spring 1986

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Thinking about Torn!Eddie this morning. How he sneaks out the side door of the CursedSound building while the first rays of pale light are still rising around the tall buildings, gleaming off the mirrored windows. He pauses outside the door to tug on the plaid hat that matches the cashmere scarf (both gifts from you) tucked into the neck of his well-worn leather jacket.

Large thick snow flakes fall, turning to slush in the sidewalk as he walks the two blocks to the coffee shop that had become your favorite. He knows that he could make you coffee in his loft that would be just as good, he's even stalked up on oat milk and your preferred salted carmel syrup, but it's light, incredibly flakey croissants that the shop bakes up first thing ever morning that he can't find a substitute for.

Uncharacteristically, he smiles as he walks back, heat from the bag of still hot pastries warming his hands, a song he's been mixing playing in his head, but it's thought of you in his bed, eyelashes kissing the top of your cheeks, your steady warm breaths fanning out across his pillow that makes him realize he's happy. That this moment in his life is a sweet spot he should savor. He's a man who doesn't consider fate to be a friend, he makes his own luck, fighting for everything he has, but as his cold nose brushes along the warmth of your temple, your lashes starting to flutter when he follows with his lips, he feels exactly that...lucky.

[watcheraurora]

But For This? Absolutely

Actually writing the Ranchers on a ranch for once after my soul was consumed by the superhero/villain AU for so long. What a novel idea /s 4.5k words Part 2

—

A crash, a curse, and a yowling cat jarred Jimmy out of his thoughts where he'd been staring into the middle distance, finally taking a break. A speckled shape shot across the porch and disappeared into the wheat fields.

"Jimmyyyyy! Revenge got out again! He's heading for the gorge!" Tango shouted from inside.

Jimmy wriggled out of his over-shirt to free up his movements. "On it!" he called back. He ran from his spot on the porch's bench toward the stairs, unfurling his wings as he did. He hit the uncovered part of the porch and hurled himself into the air. The wind rushed through his hair and the sun beat down on his yellow wings and shoulders his tank top left exposed.

He soared low, catching glimpses of the black-and-tan cat running through the wheat and trying to keep track. The gorge was fast approaching. Parts of it were too narrow for Jimmy’s wings and the river at the bottom was fast enough that Revenge wouldn’t survive if he fell in. Meaning Jimmy had to catch the cat before he reached the gorge.

He swooped, arms extended and entire body battered by the wheat.

But he snatched Revenge by the middle and shot into the air before wheeling and heading back for the ranch house—or that was the plan.

Before he could roll, he caught sight of something. Across the gorge, a dark outpost loomed. The nearest neighbors to the ranch and not friendly folk in the slightest.

Partway down the gorge’s steep slope just below the outpost was a small shape.

Even from his distance, he could see the distinct shape of Avian wings. One of them broken.

Jimmy looked down at the cat screeching and thrashing to get free. “Alright. Alright. Calm down. Geez.” He completed his roll and plummeted back toward the house. Tango was waiting on the second floor balcony. Jimmy landed and set Revenge down inside before shutting the door to keep him in.

“If that thing wasn’t so good at catching mice I would have found a new home for that nightmare by now,” Tango grumbled. Jimmy chuckled.

“He’s not so bad.”

“Sure. Whatever you say buddy.” Tango held out Jimmy’s over-shirt.

Jimmy shook his head. “I saw something in the gorge. I’m gonna go investigate. Be right back.”

“Take it anyway. Might need it.”

Jimmy took the shirt and tied it around his waist. “Be back soon.”

Tango smiled fondly. “I know.”

Jimmy launched off the balcony, blowing Tango’s fire hair backward in sputters. He pinwheeled and sailed back toward the gorge.

The winged figure hadn’t moved. Jimmy spiraled and peered down. The wings were small. Caught between juvenile down and proper plumage.

Jimmy twisted into a sharp dive and plunged downward. He flared his wings out to brake and landed near the small figure.

The child was lying in a crumpled heap on a ledge. Long hair tangled around the head. Jimmy couldn’t tell if the hair was blond or what for how dirty it was. The wings, too, were filthy. Feathers were clumped and a dull grey-tan that might have once been white. The child wore a torn shirt and shorts and was missing a shoe. Clutched in one hand was a ragged ravager plushie.

Jimmy approached slowly. “Are you alright?”

No response. Not even a shuffle. He finally noticed a small trickle of blood on the ledge.

He sprung into action. He wrapped the child's broken wing gently in his over-shirt and scooped them up. He hurled himself back into the sky, careful to hold their wings in such a way that he wouldn't crush bone or feathers, but so that they also wouldn't increase drag or get any more injured.

Tango was still waiting on the balcony when Jimmy returned. Revenge was having zoomies inside, visible through the windows and balcony door.

Tango's eyes widened as Jimmy rotated his body so he could land. "Tha—tha—tha—that's a child," he said.

Jimmy nodded. "One of their wings is broken. They were below the outpost on a ledge in the gorge."

"Oh my—" Tango breathed, unable to even complete the sentence. "What do we do?"

"I can reset the broken wing bone. Splint it. After that, maybe we do what we can to clean them up? I know how to clean wings. That hair is a disaster, and there's dirt everywhere. I just... I couldn't leave them there."

"No, no. I wouldn't have either. Let's get started, then." Tango reached out and brushed the hair away from the face, so they both could see. The child couldn't have been older than seven. Gender was more difficult to tell with children, but if Jimmy had to guess, he'd probably say they looked more girlish.

Tango opened the balcony door, snatched Revenge, and held the door open so Jimmy could carry the child inside. Revenge got put in his crate—temporarily—and the humanoids left their bedroom to go to the washroom.

"I'm going to clean the wings first," Jimmy said. "I don't want to reset the bone wrong and cause an infection due to dirty feathers."

Tango nodded, already filling a small bucket with water and grabbing a bar of soap. Jimmy set the child down in the bathtub so he could wash their wings a little easier, making sure they were lying securely on their side.

Tango passed him a sponge and his—freshly cleaned—preening brush. "Thanks," he said. Tango nodded.

Jimmy cleaned the child's wings methodically and slowly with the bucket and the soap and the sponge. The brush would be for later. He did his best not to jar the break, but the child didn't seem to react to anything. They were still alive—Tango obsessively checked for breathing every few minutes—but deeply unconscious.

Gunk, dirt, and dust washed off between the child's feathers with every pass of the sponge, washing down the drain. The icky grey gradually turned to white. Pristine and slightly shimmery. "Look how pretty these are," Jimmy whispered, admiring the feathers.

Tango didn't say anything, but a small smile appeared on his face. While he kept checking for breathing, he started to wash and tidy the child's hair as delicately as he could.

Before long, Jimmy had cleaned the mess off the child's wings and preened them both with oil from their preening glands and his brush. Once they were as cleaned as they could be, he carefully probed around the break. Grian had drilled wing care into his head when he first grew his, so even though Jimmy wasn't really medically trained, he knew how to care for a busted wing.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo," he whispered.

He reset the wing.

The child's eyes flew open and a scream filled the washroom.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay!" Jimmy said, reaching to rub the child's spine right between their wings—a calming spot for most Avians. "Tango, can you grab—"

"On it." Tango rushed out of the washroom.

The child was panting, eyes wide. They were deep blue. The child's hair, now that it had been cleaned and brushed by Tango, was as white as their wings.

Tango returned with sticks and string. "Here, here," he said.

Jimmy quickly constructed a splint for the broken wing. "There you go. You're okay. It's okay. My name's Jimmy. What's yours?" He gave the child a soft smile.

They blinked at him. "S... Skye," they said.

"Okay, Skye. Nice to meet you. Do your grownups use she, he, they, or something else for you?"

"Sh... she. B... but I... I don't have grownups anymore. Just... just the pillagers." She shuddered. "And the cage."

Tango's hair burst into flame. "I'm burning that damn outpost down," he muttered. "Keeping a child in a cage?"

"Not now Tango. You're scaring her," Jimmy whispered, watching the way Skye gasped and shrunk away from Tango.

Tango took a deep breath, the fire of his hair slowly burning down until it was just hair again. Jimmy kept comfortingly rubbing Skye's spine.

"It's okay. He's friendly. He won't hurt you. This is Tango. He's just mad that the pillagers put you in a cage," Jimmy said comfortingly. Tango gave the girl a small smile. "See? He's nice."

Skye shivered, wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing them.

"We're not going to hurt you, kiddo," Jimmy said. "We just want to help you. See? I'm like you." He unfurled his wings a tiny bit, flapping them a little to make the feathers flutter. Skye's deep blue eyes watched his wings. She almost smiled. "Can Tango help that little cut on your forehead?"

She eyed Tango warily. Then looked back at Jimmy. Then back to Tango. Then nodded.

Tango slowly extended his hand, thumb raised. He rested the pad of his thumb against the little cut. Yellow-gold magic swirled around his thumb and when he pulled away, the cut had scarred over. "Better?"

Skye nodded again. "Th-th-thank you," she said.

"Of course."

"Let's get you out of those damp clothes and into something comfy and warm, okay?" Jimmy asked.

Skye nodded.

Jimmy leaned back and snatched a towel, helping Skye wrap it around herself without hurting her wing, using his own to maintain his balance.

Tango left the washroom and returned with one of Jimmy's over-shirts. Jimmy took it from him and held it out for Skye. "We're gonna leave so you can change. This is gonna be a little long on you, but pretend it's a dress. It's got the holes in the back for your wings. We're gonna be nearby in case you need anything, okay? Just call out for us."

Skye carefully took the shirt and nodded.

Tango took Jimmy's hand and led the way out of the room.

The SoulBond between them warmed. She "doesn't have grownups anymore"? Jimmy... Tango's thoughts said down their bond, his red eyes sad. Jimmy's expression mirrored Tango's.

I know. Do you think they're dead? Or do you think she was kidnapped?

Tango shrugged. I don't know. The way she said it... I don't think they're alive anymore.

So, what do we do? Jimmy asked.

Tango released Jimmy's hand to rest his fists thoughtfully on his hips. Well... if her family is gone... she needs time to heal. Is she even old enough to fly?

Barely. I doubt she knows much or would be able to stay in the air for long.

Tango pursed his lips. It's not like we don't have the room and resources...

You want to take her in? Jimmy almost didn't dare to hope.

She's just a kid and we're out in the middle of nowhere. If her parents are gone and she's been in a pillager outpost cage—someone has to take care of her. I can build another room up here pretty quickly. She'd be safe here. I'll reconstruct the ward to keep the outpost out of our business.

Jimmy smiled softly. I thought you didn't want kids.

Tango rolled his eyes. I'm not going to turn away an innocent child in desperate need of help just because I didn't want kids, he retorted. She's welcome stay here as long as she wants.

Jimmy beamed, grabbed Tango's face in both hands, and kissed his forehead. Ohhh thank youuu! Thank you, thank you, thank you! His wings flapped happily and Tango shook his head affectionately. I really wanted us to be able to take care of her here. Even if it's just while she heals and we can look to see if her parents are still alive. Thank you, Tango.

Tango brushed his fingers through Jimmy's soft hair. You're welcome, pretty bird.

Jimmy went red under his freckles—

Right as the washroom door opened.

Skye stood there in Jimmy's over-shirt. It was basically a dress on her, the sleeves trailing to nearly her ankles.

Jimmy smiled and knelt in front of her. "Need some help rolling those sleeves up, kiddo?" he asked. She nodded and held out her arm.

Jimmy made quick work of rolling up the sleeves, being friendly and chatting to her. Skye watched quietly. Tango leaned against the wall and watched the scene with a smile on his face. "I'm gonna go get some stuff together," he said to Jimmy, setting a hand on the latter's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," Jimmy said. Tango headed for the stairs.

Once he was gone, Skye shuffled on her feet. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Jimmy said. "You're just a kid—and you're hurt. Of course we're going to be nice to you."

"He looks scary."

Jimmy sighed. "Tango's family history makes him look scarier than he is. He's really a big softie. He went to go get some stuff to make you a room here. So you can be safe while your wing gets better. His magic isn't strong enough to heal your wing like he did the owie on your forehead, so he's going to do what he can to make sure your wing can heal naturally on its own really well."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. How are you feeling? Does your wing hurt?"

"Mmhmm." Skye nodded.

"Can I pick you up?"

"Okay."

He scooped her into his arms, still being gentle. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. Jimmy's heart melted. He snuggled her closer and carried her downstairs. She tapped his bare shoulder. "You have dots on your shoulder."

"They're called freckles. I have them on my face too." He tilted his face so she could see the splash of freckles across his nose and cheekbones.

"Why?"

"I get them from being in the sun. I'm supposed to wear a shirt with sleeves when I'm working outside so I don't sunburn my shoulders, but I forget a lot, and so I get freckles on my shoulders."

"Oh."

Tango was kneeling in front of one of their chests, building supplies he'd taken from it on the floor next to him. Jimmy took Skye to the kitchen counter and set her down on top of it. He'd noticed when he rolled up the sleeves of the over-shirt that she'd scrubbed herself off a little better, leaving her cleaner than she'd been when he found her. "Hungry?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I have just the thing. We've got some home-grown potatoes and chicken that you're going to love."

Tango hummed. "That'll be good for you to get your strength back, kiddo," he added, gathering his supplies into his arms and getting to his feet to get back upstairs. "Potatoes have lots of nutrients. You'll need them." He paused at the stairs and retraced his steps to the kitchen. He shifted his supplies to one arm and held a hand out toward Skye. "High-five? It's okay if you don't want to."

She stared at his hand for a second—before giving him a high-five.

Tango did a little fist-pump of celebration. "Yes," he said softly, smiling at her. She grinned, a small thing but still visible. Before Tango made happy, singsong noises and did a goofy dance up the stairs, still singing.

Skye giggled. "He's silly," she whispered to Jimmy.

Who grinned down at her. "See? He's a big softie."

She smiled a little brighter. "He's not scary," she decided.

"He's not." Jimmy pulled a potato out of a barrel full of others and stuck it in the smoker, stoking the fuel back to life. Skye giggled again. "Have you ever had a jacket potato before?"

"Why's the potato wearing a jacket?"

Jimmy blinked. "Also called a baked potato?"

Big blue eyes blinked owlishly at him.

"Okay. Maybe you've had one and just didn't know that's what it's called." He busied about the kitchen, pulling some butter out of the chest full of packed ice. Ice was nearly impossible to come by in this area, let alone packed, but a little magic from Tango had given them just enough for food preservation.

Upstairs, Jimmy could hear Tango breaking down one of the walls to start building. Revenge's meowing was also audible, and Jimmy assumed Tango had freed the cat from his crate.

The smoker finished cooking the potato and Jimmy pulled it out. He tossed it between his hands—it was hot—and set it on a plate. He put some chicken in the smoker from where it had been in the ice chest. Then prepared the potato, cutting open the peel and opening it to put some butter inside. "Want some salt and pepper?"

Skye blinked. "Er... sure?"

Jimmy smiled and added some.

Upstairs, Revenge yowled and Tango squawked in surprise. "You're fine!" he said. "What're you yappin' for? You can't whine for affection while you're draped over my shoulder you dingus."

Jimmy snickered as he pushed the plate toward Skye, handing her some utensils. "Go ahead. Eat up."

She took the utensils and stared at them for a few seconds.

Then set them down on the counter and picked up the potato in her hands and dug in.

Jimmy shrugged and went to grab her a serviette to wipe her hands off later, tucking it under the plate. He munched on an apple for a snack while he waited for the chicken to finish cooking, leaning one hip against the counter casually.

"Skye?" he asked carefully.

She looked up from the potato, a little melted butter and flakes of pepper on her chin. "Mm?"

"Have you learned to fly yet?"

She shook her head. "Too little," she said around a mouthful of potato. "Wings not strong enough."

Jimmy nodded. "I thought so," he said, ruffling his own wings with a shake of his shoulders. He stretched the pinions backward to ease an ache in the elbow joints.

Upstairs, a thunk closely followed by Tango shouting a Blaze curse made Skye and Jimmy both turn toward the stairs.

Jimmy boosted himself up onto the counter next to Skye. "Kiddo. When you say you don't have grownups anymore, were you taken from them by the Illagers?"

She sniffed and shook her head. "N... no." Her eyes started to water. "The... the pillagers had crossbows. And axes. My parents tried to hide me in our storm cellar. The pillagers..." She sniffed again. "They chased them. I heard Mama scream, and then Papa. And then nothing. The pillagers came for me. They kept me alive." She shook, putting the potato down, and started to cry. Jimmy wrapped his arm and a wing around her, pulling her close and rocking her soothingly.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry," he whispered, letting her bury her messy face in his side. "Me and Tango just needed to know if we needed to ask around about finding you. I'm sorry, Skye." He kissed her soft white hair. She kept crying. He felt her tears soak through his tank top.

His other hand reached into the smoker and grabbed the chicken before it could burn, setting it on her plate.

Tango's footsteps echoed down the stairs and he reappeared. The SoulBond warmed again. What's going on?

I asked about her parents. They're dead. The Illagers.

Ohhh. Can I help?

I don't think so. How's the room coming along?

It's coming along fine. Not going to be anything fancy but it'll be comfortable.

Jimmy nodded. Thank you. He moved his arm around Skye to rub between her wings. She was still shaking against him. Tango nodded back and slipped nearly silently back up the stairs.

Jimmy started humming low, rocking Skye until her sobs calmed down. Once she wasn't shaking anymore, he wiped her tears with the serviette—and then the butter and pepper left on her face that hadn't come off on his tank top.

She looked up at him with big, watery eyes. "What... what's going to happen to me now?"

"Well, first, you're going to finish your food," Jimmy said with a warm smile. "And then, you can stay here. Tango and I will take care of you. For as long as you want. We'll help you heal your wing. And when it's ready, I'll teach you how to fly."

Skye gasped. "Really?" She looked hopeful.

"Of course! But your wing has to heal. And if you want it to heal well, you gotta give your body the energy it needs. And in order to do that, you gotta finish your food."

She nodded and went back to eating. Jimmy smiled.

He stayed on the kitchen counter with her until Tango returned to the kitchen, Revenge draped over his shoulder. His hands were covered in ash. Sawdust that had caught fire, probably. He grinned at Jimmy and inclined his head toward the top of the stairs. "Ready," he said, looking proud and pleased.

Jimmy handed Skye the serviette again. She wiped her whole face with it, and then her hands.

"Your room is ready, kiddo," Tango said, pitching his voice up just a little to sound more friendly.

Skye looked up at Jimmy. He nodded and slid off the counter, taking her hands to help her down. Tango led her upstairs, Jimmy bringing up the rear, still holding her hand where she didn't let go.

The second floor of the ranch house wasn't much. It was largely built into the roof. But Tango had adjusted so that the blank wall opposite the washroom—that originally led to a 5-block drop to the ground outside—now had a pastel pink wood door. Tango took a position between her door and the door to his and Jimmy's bedroom at the end of the hall, gesturing for her to open the door.

Skye looked back at Jimmy for confirmation, he nodded.

She pushed open the door and gasped as she entered the room.

The room was the same wood as the rest of the house. Oak and birch. But the bed was purple and the little table and chair were the same soft pink as the door. He'd even made a small balcony. Smaller than the one off his and Jimmy's room, but big enough for an Avian to take off and land from. The fence posts of the balcony had flower pots on them, each with a gentle but colorful plant in them.

Skye looked like she was going to cry again as she took in the whole room. "This is... mine?" she asked tentatively.

"Uh-huh," Tango confirmed with a small grin—not opening his mouth enough to show off sharp teeth—and a nod. His fire hair was flickering low and warm like a homey hearth.

Skye let go of Jimmy's hand and rushed at Tango, throwing her arms around his middle. "Thank you," she said. "It's really pretty."

Tango knelt to be at her eye level and hugged her properly. "You're welcome."

But Jimmy could see the way Tango's pointed ear twitched and his red eyes didn't quite meet Skye's. Jimmy brought the SoulBond to life between them. You feel guilty that you couldn't make it nicer, he said. Not a question.

Tango's ears pinned back to his head. We have the resources for an extra room. We don't have the resources for a perfect one for a little girl, he thought back. I did the best I could.

Tango. Look at her. She loves it. "The best you could" was more than enough.

Skye let go of Tango and rushed over to the bed, hopping up on it and wiggling in delight. Tango's gaze followed her with a small, fond smile.

I'm going to clean up the dishes. Stay here and chat with her, maybe? Jimmy suggested.

Yeah, yeah. I can do that, Tango replied, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that more than Jimmy. Who just pushed his fingers through Tango's warm, burning hair affectionately and slipped out of the room.

—

Tango sat up in bed. Moonlight streamed through the windows and the door to the balcony. His ears flicked and twitched. What had woke him? Probably Revenge whining to be let out into the animal yard—

His whole body went rigid when he realized what he was hearing wasn't the cat.

Skye was crying.

Slowly, so as not to wake Jimmy, Tango slipped out of bed. He slid out of their room and to the new door on the wall. He knocked. "Skye?" he asked softly. "Are you okay?"

Sniffling was the only reply he got.

"Can I come in, kiddo?"

He heard the creaking of a mattress and small feet tiptoeing over the floor. The door opened.

Jimmy had—somehow—managed to save her ravager plushie from death-by-filth. It was clutched in one of her arms, the other one hugging herself. Her face was wet and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. "Come in," she said quietly.

Tango followed her in. She went back to the bed and boosted herself up onto it. Her broken wing's splint was still in place, the other flopping across the mattress behind her.

"Can I sit by you?"

She nodded. Tango sat beside her.

"You know," he said. "I'm from the Nether. That's why I look like this. Buuut..." He leaned down to smile conspiratorially. "That's also why I'm really warm to hug. Any time you need a warm hug, you just let me know, yeah?"

Her deep blue eyes were dark in the dim light of the bedroom. "Can I have a hug?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

Skye leaned and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his side. Tango wrapped his around her and held her close. He wanted to ask why she was crying, but he had a good guess. Her first night of freedom after being in a cage for who-knew-how-long. Now that she was no longer fearful for her survival, her grief was probably catching up to her at losing her parents.

Tango copied how he'd seen Jimmy rock her gently, trying to comfort her. He wasn't as good at it as Jimmy. Jimmy just had a knack for people. He could connect to them on a level Tango didn't quite understand, but tried to. But Tango gave it his best shot for an innocent child who didn't deserve the hurt she'd experienced.

When her sobs eased into hiccups and her grip around his middle wasn't so deathly tight anymore, Tango felt her go slack against his side.

Having cried herself to sleep.

Tango smiled sadly down at her. He carefully scooped her up into his arms and turned her covers back down so he could tuck her in. He positioned her on her side the way Jimmy slept—the way Jimmy had set her in their tub to avoid jostling her wings—and tucked her in. He smoothed a few loose hairs out of her face and crept out of the room, easing the door shut behind him.

He lingered in the hallway for a moment, the fire of his hair warming the hallway with low light.

Setting his jaw, he slipped stealthily downstairs and out the front door. His Blaze Rods appeared around his head, spinning fast. He shot into the sky, hurtling toward the gorge. The ranch's wheat fields whizzed by below him.

The gorge plunged into darkness below him. He kept going.

When he got close enough, Tango started banking in a fast circle around the outpost, pulling back his arms and hurling fireballs at the dark oak wood of the outpost and its wooden cages on the outskirts. Continuing until it was fully engulfed in flames. He didn't like to fully indulge his Blaze blood often.

But for that sweet, poor child? For what they did to her? Absolutely.

[real-camera]

I have never watched Minecraft SMPs in my life but your reblogs are making me very curious. Where should I start?

It really depends on what sort of SMP you are interested in. There’s SMPs like Hermitcraft where they build stuff i guess??

I’m not sure if the Life Series (Third Life, Last Life, etc) are SMPs, but I suppose if you want recommendations, the only ones I can give are Hermitcraft and the Life Series. I don’t watch a lot of SMPs so I’ll just list the SMPs I know.

Outsiders SMP (This was a lore/roleplay server that ended but the plot was pretty good.)

Hermitcraft

Life Series (Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, and that’s all currently)

Lifesteal SMP

Kaboodle SMP (This is a lore/roleplay SMP, it just ended its second season.)

QSMP (Not sure what this is in terms of roleplay or not)

Pirates SMP (I think this one ended, but it’s also somewhat a lore/roleplay server.)

Empires SMP (There’s two seasons, and both ended. Also a roleplay server)

That’s all I could think of but I would recommend looking around for SMPs or servers yourself! Some of them might be streamed on Twitch or uploaded as VODs.

[themelodyofspring]

05.07.2023

There was a clearing in the middle of the woods. It tasted of lightning and magic.

[randomgirl005]

Snapshots (2018)

An underrated wlw movie. If you have not seen it yet, i don't know what you are waiting for!

[keulixeutin]

Snapshot 1: Movie Night (Bakugou)

 a/n: i’ve got some scenes in my head that don’t fit anywhere or can’t be made into a long or standalone thing, so i thought why not throw them all together into a little booklet?

summary: snapshot series. a snapshot of you and bakugou watching a movie on the couch. bakugou x gn!reader.

cw: fluff, swearing, cute little roughhousing at the end. gn!reader, no pronouns used.

word count: 1,275.

You reach into the bag of chips sitting between you and Bakugou, eyes glued to the television as Jacob Black shifts into his wolf form on screen.

“Wow,” you remark, “the CGI isn’t that bad.”

Bakugou glances up, but the effects and the moment aren’t strong enough to hold his interest.  “Looks like ass,” he grunts.  He drops his gaze back down to his phone where he’s scrolling on his Twitter feed.

“Considering the time, the wolves look pretty cool,” you argue.

“Ass.”

“Whatever.”  

You roll your eyes and eat another chip piece, returning back to the screen.  Bakugou opens his camera app and sends a picture of the movie to his group chat; intensive texting follows it, most likely of him complaining.

When you realize that you are the only one eating the chips, and when you feel the aching in your back and your side, you shift positions, laying back against a pillow and the couch armrest, the bag of chips tucked against your arm.  You rest your legs in his lap and feel an immediate relief in your body at the new arrangement, though you notice Bakugou’s irritated glance.  He accommodates the presence and weight of your legs without complaint, though you know it’s not the position that annoys him but the distance.

“Your muscles hurt,” you say.

He narrows his eyes at his phone, fingers pausing mid-text, but he doesn’t look your way.  “Are you whining that I have muscles?”

“No, I’m saying that you like to lean against me and dig your big, dumb, muscular arm into my side, asshole.”

“Fuckin’ unbelievable...” he grumbles.

“I’m just saying that you could stand to be a little more aware of your position,” you remark.

“Why don’t we make it easy?” he snorts.  “I just won’t fucking touch you anymore.”  He says it, but he doesn’t make any move to push your legs off.  You learned early on that he is a softie: his growling and snarling is only big talk and heated air, and he’d bite only if you asked.  You turn back to the screen, a smile playing on your lips.  

You sit up, and you can see that he suddenly begins to shift imperceptibly, as if preparing for you to come back to his side, but you rearrange the pillow to be more comfortable against your back and lay back down.  Bakugou’s jaw clenches and unclenches.  You look at the screen, pretending that you’re smiling at something a character says and not laughing at him internally.

“Everyone wants to do lunch tomorrow,” Bakugou announces.

“Can’t,” you respond, bringing another chip to your lips.  “We have lunch with Midoriya and Todoroki, remember?  At that new, fancy Japanese-French restaurant that just opened?”

Bakugou scowls.  “Cancel.  Place sounds shitty anyways.”

“It’s been on the calendar for two weeks, Katsuki.”

“Push it back another two weeks.”

“No.”

“Tch.”

You nudge him playfully with your foot.  “We’re literally about to see Kirishima  and them for game night in two days!  You’re so clingy!”

“They’re the ones fucking asking.”

“You’re the one talking about rescheduling a double date that’s been on the calendar for half a month.”

“Whatever, fine, we’ll go eat with the nerds,” he mutters.

“Katsuki, you’re making me miss the movie.”  You sigh dramatically, sitting up again to grab the remote and rewind the scene, one where Bella is comparing her two love interests.  You get a curious thought then, and you look back to your boyfriend, trying to decipher which species he would fall under: shapeshifter/werewolf or vampire?  Decisions, decisions…

“What?” he snaps, sense your staring.

You grin, settling back down.  “Yeah, you’d be one of the werewolves.”

That catches his attention.  He looks up from his phone.  “What?” 

“I was trying to figure out if you’d be a werewolf or a vampire if you were in the Twilight world,” you explain, “and you’d definitely be one of the werewolves.”

He looks offended, his brows scrunching and his scowl deepening in that way that makes him look like he takes the world too seriously (in that way that makes you laugh with your entire chest).

“I’m not a fucking dog,” he says.

“They’re wolves,” you correct.  You throw a chip at him—it misses wildly and lands on the floor on the other side of the couch.

“You’re picking that shit up later,” Bakugou remarks, but you both know that he’ll do it for you.

You continue with your thoughts; a habit that you’ve developed during your relationship is grabbing onto threads of annoyances and pulling until you get a reaction, and you think this thread in particular is a good one.

“Okay, so I think you’re way too freakin’ hot-headed to be a vampire—”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?  And I’m not fucking—”

“—And the wolves have to, like, strip, or their clothes rip when they transform, which is funny because you just love walking around butt-ass naked with the blinds up for all the neighbors to see—”

“Neighbors shouldn’t be looking into other people’s windows anyways, nosy ass extras.”

“—Plus, I would argue that, sometimes, you know, your bitching sounds a lot like barking, or howling, or—”

“What the fuck did you just—”

“—And the Twilight vampires are pretty, and elegant, and suave, and you’re”—you make pointed eye contact with him—“you.”

A few seconds go by while you withhold a grin, waiting for his reaction.  Rather than yell, though, he is calm—much calmer than you expect him to be.  He sets his phone down on the coffee table and holds his hand out to you.

You reach out to grasp his hand, but he immediately smacks it away.

“The chip bag, idiot,” he retorts.  “Give it to me.”

“I’m still eating them.”

“Give it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but give him the bag of chips.  He takes it gently, sets it down on the floor with slow and smooth movements.  What is he up to, you think suspiciously, and while you try to figure out his angle, he takes advantage of that moment and his speed to suddenly jump on top of you without warning, faster than your eyes can follow.  His hands are immediately at your sides, tickling you, making you writhe and squirm and shout.

“So you think I’m a fuckin’ dog, huh, [Name]?  You think I’m an ugly, stupid-ass, dumb mutt?”

“Wait,” you gasped in between laughter, “I literally didn’t say any of that!”

“I know what you were fuckin’ tryin’ to say!”

Bakugou grabs your wrists and pins them down against the couch cushion, a smug smirk on his face.  These fights always end the same way, even as you use every wily trick you know—using your legs to keep your bodies separated, twisting your hands to force his grip to open—but, in the end, Bakugou always ends up on top, snug between your legs as he uses his strength and weight to keep you trapped beneath him.

When he finally has you where he wants—your feeble struggling doing nothing for either of you—he buries his face into your neck to playfully bite at the sensitive spot that meets your shoulder.  You scream and laugh, stammering out apologies to try and appease him, but he tightly holds both your wrists in one large hand; the other snakes around your waist, pulling you even closer.  Bakugou attempts a terrible impression of Count Dracula against your skin, and your burst of bright laughter grows louder, overtaking the soundtrack of the movie as he pretends to feast on your neck.

[non-un-topo]

Rating: M

Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Trans Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Trans Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Gender Identity, Crusades Era Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, No actual SA occurs, Canon-Typical Violence, POV First Person, just trust me though, Melodrama, gotta tag for that because i'm a dramatic person

Summary:

At first, there were only names. Yusuf of the Kaysanites, pious and sure and cunning like my merchant father before me. Yusuf, a strong, godly name, given and taken by no one but myself. It was the name with which I carried myself to my new life, to the walls of al-Quds. I could not have predicted, at the time, the violence that would befall her. Her, that was the land that was holy, and her, that was me. A merchant’s daughter from Mahdia, who carried an old sword and a new story.

[fastcardotmp3]

Chrissy is a tool, has always been a tool for someone else’s gain, has always been a pretty little trophy to put on a shelf, a conversation topic to drop at lunches with the other mothers or to the boys in the locker room. 

She’s not a pretty thing anymore, mutilated body buried six feet under, but maybe she doesn’t need to be for this new puppeteer. 

Bones set snapping a second time around, mind crawling back into the safety of a fused together skull, breath coming back in heaves and embalming fluid still cold in her veins. 

And she's alive again. 

The body remembers alive, remembers it means pain and fear and darkness, so this is certainly alive. 

Alive and six feet underground with her name on a placard awaiting a stone yet to be carved.

Alive but different.

kas!chrissy | wheelingham | rated M

read more on ao3

[compacflt]

the only thing i ever wanna write anymore is icemav just being old and married and happy in retirement (so many thousands of words just dedicated to that & i have no idea where to post it)

[strangergraphics-archive]

snapshots of eddie - spring 1986 2/?

[cellard0ors]

Travis isn't a fan of going into the big city.

Yes, he lives in New York, but not NEW YORK, New York. He lives in North Kill - a small town that's pretty much the exact opposite of it's 'shining star' city.

North Kill isn't glitz or glamour. It's not even tough and hard. It's small and country and - as he's heard some say - bumfuck redneck.

it's home.

And, to him, leagues better than the big city.

And yet.

The big city isn't that far from home. Not far enough, anyway, to prevent Travis from traveling there now and then. Now, specifically, for his brother Bobby's sake.

Family, after all, is the most important thing in the world.

And if Bobby wants to go to the big city to see some wrestling (or, again as he's heard some say, 'rasslin') Travis is willing to swallow his distaste for the city and go.

Or, as it is at this moment, swallow a beer

He's at a bar not too far from the convention center he, Bobby, and Chris will be going to in a few hours. Bobby and Chris, far more excited for this than he is, are out and about exploring.

Travis, for his part, is enjoying a drink in an establishment that's surprisingly quiet. A good cleanser for the soul before he's surrounded by people. Screaming, sweaty excited people.

...Jesus...

"Well that's a face."

Travis perks up from his drink and then...internally freezes. He's old enough now (in his fifties and all) to control his reaction when he sees an attractive woman.

This means that, while his expression is calm, his nerves are going off like fireworks - something he would've reflectively shown in his youth. He thanks himself for his age that his jaw doesn't drop.

Because this woman?

Gorgeous.

She's blonde and beautiful and giving him an amused smirk, "Don't like the drink?"

"Drinks fine. Company not so much." And how he manages something that slick is a mystery to him.

"I don't see any company."

"That's because I'm alone."

She nods to herself in understanding, "So you don't like that?"

"Normally? No. Right now? Definitely not."

"Any particular reason?"

"Not really."

"Well...I could buy you a drink? Join you? Maybe a change of company will cheer you up. Change that face a little."

Travis fights off a smirk but she catches it, grinning wildly, "See? It's already working!"

"I can see you're trouble..."

"Loads and you're already in it. Didn't even say 'no' to the drink and it's too late now." She boasts and sure enough the bartender is near enough that the girl can request another for Travis and, for herself, a rum and coke.

Once the bartender is gone she turns to him, "Name's Laura."

She holds out a hand and he lets out a sigh as if this is a big burden as he shakes her hand, "Travis."

+

They share a few more drinks, they share a few more flirtatious remarks, and just when Travis is really contemplating asking her out, her phone buzzes and she looks at, hissing, "Oh! I lost track of time! I really have to go!"

Laura gives him a shy smile, "I really had fun with you, Travis."

"Same." Is his simple response, but his heart is jackhammering as he prepares to ask for her number. Only for her to suddenly draw a sharpie from her jacket, "Here..."

Laura gets a hold of his forearm.and scribbles on it, "When you get a chance, give me a call."

"So...right now?"

She laughs and tucks the marker away, "Sadly, busy tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's fine by me." He returns with his own shy grin. She seems reluctant to leave, but her phone buzzes again and she gives in, even if it is with a pout.

Travis watches her go before directing his attention to his forearm to see her best scrawl. He chuckles at it and shakes his head to himself, wondering why on earth she's carrying a sharpie around.

Later that night, he finds out exactly why.