#yes i have fic ideas

[calamaricollie]

Behold, my sappiest (and longest) Lari comic yet, I hope ya'll enjoy some tooth-rottingly sweet fluff UvU

More of me rambling under the cut:

Honestly I was so worried about posting this one, I wrote it when I was really needing some comfort so it turned out very sweet, less humorous than my other shitten stuff, but hey if you've watched and liked my animatic that's what you're here for anyways >:)

As much as I love feral Nari I just love writing him being all soft and chilled out tbh, this cat has been fully domesticated over years of TLC (Tender Lamb Care), I just hope others like it as much as I do too :p

[transsophiedevereaux]

been rewatching s1 of leverage and it really hammers home how down bad hardison has been from the start. and it's not even the stupid flirting and telling parker she looks good in the bridesmaid dress.

when the team first gets together they don't really get parker. eliot calls her crazy about twice per episode, sophie clearly feels bad for her, and nate barely cares for anyone at this point. hardison, by contrast, always engages with her, answers her questions, listens to her concerns about the orphanages in the stork job, explains to her that they're a little more than a team, cheekily adresses her, while in character for the juror #6 job, just to make her smile. yes we all remember how parker stabbed the guy from the stork job with a fork, but also remember that, just moments before, while talking stone-faced to this guy she clearly loathes hardison managed to make her laugh with only a stupid vampire joke mocking the mark's accent. she thinks he's funny! they're in love your honour!!

[nabtime]

Sir Waylon of Gotham

Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity well-to-doers. Didn't much like their attitude. Or the way they looked at 'im. Lookin' down their noses, all pinched-faced and holier-than-thou, like he was the scum of the earth for the way he looked. And while Waylon wouldn't deny that he was scum, it sure weren't for lookin' the way he did. He'd earned that title fair 'n square, through hard work 'n strikin' fear inta the people of Gotham.

And he did that by bitin' they's arms off, not 'cause he was a li'l scaly.

Point was, Waylon didn't talk much with fancy people. Yeah, he talked to the Bat Brood and they could half be considered fancy on account of mostly bein' Waynes under the mask, but they didn't count. Not really. 'Specially their newest petite couyon that liked to swing about in his sewers like the chit owned the place. He didn't know how the kid was added to the family- coulda been adopted, coulda been one a' the other one's partner, coulda been another blood son a popped up outta nowhere 'gain.

Waylon didn't ask and the chit never said. No, all Phantom ever wanted to talk 'bout was how Waylon was doin. Idjit was far too concerned about Waylon's well-bein' when he shoulda been mindin' his own damn business. Kid said it was part a his business. That heroes had to check in on the reformed, make sure they were well and happy so they didn't have a need to get back inta villainy. Waylon wanted to call bullshit on 'im but he just didn't have the heart when the kid looked so earnest 'bout it.

And maybe the kid was swingin' in all the time just to check in on an Old Croc. Maybe even the kid didn't mind bein' 'round 'im an 'is big, scary teeth. Sure it were more likely he needed an escape an' the sewers were a place most Bats didn't venture less they had to, but iffin that were true- kid didn't have to find and talk to him every time.

All this was to say that he'd gotten used to seein' Danny 'round the sewers, and even seein' Jay when the older kid was sent to bring the other back topside.

Who he had not gotten used to seein' in the sewers, though, was a pretty thing all done up in medieval dress and glowin' green. Nor was he used to the hulking Knight done up in glowin' black armor standin' next ta her.

And, again, Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity people, let alone Ghost Royalty or some such, but he was still a man with manners. An' they were in his sewers (well, an' Grundy's, but the big lug weren't here, so's point was moot) so he was haven'ta be the one to greet 'em.

He growl echoed off the stone and muck as he approached the two beings that were floating midair, just above the water. They both looked lost until he fully rose from the grime and addressed them.

"Youins need somethin? Ya lookin fer Danny?"

And, well, Waylon said he had manners. Never said he was gonna use 'em.

"Oh!" said the sweet thing in flowing gown, her voice just as soft as she looked. "Yes! You must be the good Sir Waylon of Gotham that the King speaks so fondly of. I am Princess Dorathea and this is my personal guard, Fright Knight."

Sir Waylon? Now that's not somethin' he's ever heard afore. Him? Deservin' of a title like Sir? Ain't no way. He weren't 'bout to say nothin', but it sure did make him feel all flustery that a noble Lady like her would think so highly of a monster like him.

"Nah I wouldn' say he's 'xactly fond a me, but the name is Waylon, yeah, uh- My Lady."

And she smiled at 'im, sweet as anythin', like he weren't made a sharp edges an spilled blood. The big Knight aside her was actin like that too, posture relaxed as he just let her get closer. Closer an most people ever dared. 'Cept Phantom an some a the Bats. Was it a ghost thing? No fear a death, so whats scary about a big man with sharp teeth anymore?

"Would Sir Phantom be near-abouts?" she asked. "I require his counsel on matters of import."

"Sorry, cher- uh, My Lady," he grumbled, "ain't gotta clue where he's at. Somewhere's topside, prolly."

Her shoulders slumped just the slightest, obviously disappointed in his answer. And try as he might to want to give her a better one, he only knew where the kid was when he wanted to hang around underground. Waylon avoided the streets at all costs these days, not wantin' to risk trouble again. He'd spent enough of his days wastin' away in Arkham and Blackgate, thanks.

The Lady turned thoughtful though and graced him with a tilt of her head and a smile. "Perhaps you would deign to assist me instead, Sir Waylon?"

"Well nah, I'd love ta, My Lady. Supposin' its somethin' I can help ya with."

"Yes," she said, circling around him in a graceful glide, "so long as you are willing, you will suit just fine."

"Ya still haven't told me what ya need help with, ah- My Lady."

Waylon couldn't see the Knight's expression but he could almost feel the amusement pourin' off a him. And he wondered just what the hell he'd agreed to that a guy like that'd find it funny.

"My brother is making moves to take back the Kingdom. He has amassed a small, but skilled contingent of rebels and intends to usurp me at the upcoming Yule Celebration."

"So ya need muscle ta help stop 'im?"

"Oh no," she said, sweet but full of venom- like arsenic. Her grin was now full of teeth, teeth much to sharp for a proper Lady like her, and her eyes turned to glowing reptilian points. "I can take care of him myself. I intended to ask Sir Phantom along as contingency."

She looked him up and down and the Knight standing guard behind her was projectin' a certain smugness as he did the same.

"You, however, Sir Waylon," she said, and the tone near sent a shiver down his spine. "Will do well as both warrior and suitor."

"What say you?"

[yuwuta]

love f2l where he’s already hopelessly in love with you and pining in a way that’s so obvious to everyone else but you, but also love the moment in f2l where it clicks that “oh shit… i think my friend just turned me on.” even better when one person doesn’t realize they’ve turned the other one on and they’ve just gotta live with the memory replaying in their head for a few days. friends keep saying they’re distracted and they just nod their head like yeah uh sorry… was uh… sorry what were we talking about? bc these days if it’s not about that moment, zero processing has gone on 

megumi and satoru are the worst at coping with this. 

for megumi, it’s such a 180, a switch has been completely turned on when it happens, that it makes him upset. he can’t even tell if he’s angry that it happened in the first place, that he couldn’t tell he was attracted to you before, that he can’t stop thinking about it now, or that it’s possible that other people could have already had this realization and be thinking of you like this too. every option brings a mean scowl to his face. and it’s embarrassing above all because you were just trying to take off your shoes. when lifting your leg and holding onto to his bicep wasn’t enough, you crouch down to struggle with the straps instead. megumi sighs—all he wanted to do was get your drunken ass home in one piece and now you’re crouched down in the middle of the street, and when he looks down to see what’s taking so long, that’s when it hits him. you bent down like that, looking up at him and groaning and pulling on his shirt and whining for him to help you does very terrible things to him. and it shouldn’t, you’re only calling for him because you lack the hand-eye coordination (and clearly critical thinking because this is the middle of the road and you cannot walk barefoot) right now to undo your shoes, but it’s your blown pupils and pout and the calling for him—you have to stop whining. and saying his name. immediately—not to mention the angle and tilt of your head to look up at him. megumi can barely help himself, much less you, which is why he grumbles, hoists you up by the scruff of your neck so you’re standing up right. you giggle in your haze but megumi just hisses his teeth, tells you “stop looking at me like that,” and before your mind can catch up, he grabs you by the waist and hoists you over his shoulder because looking at your face is not an option right now. and this is for the best for everyone—now your feet don’t hurt, you’ve stopped groaning, there’s no more eye contact, and megumi has the rest of the walk back to your apartment to contemplate what the fuck just happened to him 

for satoru, it’s actually partially his fault, because not only is it so far from sexual and yet turns him on anyway, but he’s so annoying that his actions lead to a cascade of other terrible turn-ons that and now it’s a cyclical problem. you’re just borrowing something of his for the convince of it—his glasses because it’s sunny, or maybe his jacket because it’s cold, something small and innocent—but it ignites such a strong flame in him that his visceral reaction is to snatch it right back from you, and run away like some school girl. “hey—satoru what the fuck, come on, you weren’t even using it!” you call, but your voice is already an echo at the speed he’s scurried away from you. the flash vision of you in his belongings was terrible, but it’s the memory of it that makes it worse, brings a blush to his face, and leave him shaking his head like a crazy person because what the fuck this is insane. you didn’t even do anything so he has no reason to act like this, there’s no way the slightest insinuation of you thinking of him/his belongings as something to borrow, or hold, or have should make him react this way, but it does. and he hates it. and he’s not normal about it at all, and it takes you confronting him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him back and forth, asking him what the fuck is wrong with him, which is warranted, but worse because that also leaves him red from his face to his check with Awful Realization Numbers 2 and 3: (2) you usually just Deal with him being strange, but right now you’re mad and you’re really hot when you’re mad, and (3) you’re very close to choking him out right now and if you did, he wouldn’t stop you

yuuji is the one who has had this effect on more people than he knows, which is hilarious to think about because he’s either completely oblivious, or using his charm to play innocent. and when you have that moment, you’re definitely left stunned. you were just fishing for more snacks for your self-care night—a tradition that used to between you and nobara, but now includes megumi, and most times yuuji, but tonight, he had plans with todo, which you were grateful for because there’s no way you could have been around him after what happened. in a hurry to grab his water bottle from the fridge, yuuji doesn’t bother you with words to maneuver through the cramped kitchen, just mindlessly puts his hands on your hips, lifts you, pivots, puts you down, grabs his water bottle, puts it on the counter, lifts you again, pivots, and places you right back where you were, flashing you a million-dollar smile, before grabbing his bottle and rushing out to catch the bus. you’re left blinking, body on autopilot as you finally reach for the chips, and zombie-like when you make your way back to the living room where nobara’s putting a sheet mask on megumi. when you’re finally seated on the couch, you blink for the first time, blurting out to nobody in particular, “is… is itadori hot?” and it’s comedic how quick, blasé, and autonomic the in-sync replies from both megumi and nobara are, “yes”, “unfortunately.” oh. well that’s reassuring you suppose. you might have been the last to realize it, but at least you’re not alone. 

if you told yuuta he had the ability to seduce anybody he would probably just laugh awkwardly and think it’s some kind of joke. the great irony is that rooming with him has left you with many instances to confirm that he is attractive, but the defining moment is when you realize just how much yuuta has grown in his year abroad. your apartment is nice and relatively modern, but there are still some tight spaces. usually you and yuuta just giggle while shuffling around each other, but today, you feel like you’ve gotten between a rock and another rock because when did yuuta—your scrawny, awkward, endearing yuuta—gain fifty pounds of muscle? it’s a terrible moment for you to be squished between him and the tiny enclosure of your storage closet and even worse that he’s the one who apologies, and smiles, and carries on reaching for the spare napkins while you’re left with the filthy thoughts about your best friend. 

[reallilystuff]

dogpile!!!

alt version below readmore ooo spooky

they sleebgy......

[domsaysstuff]

Okay so this idea has been rocking around my empty skull for some time now just we know that Eddie can be a pretty mean DM and a shithead and I've been thinking abt romances in D&D and how it would work in Hellfire

And I had this thought that Eddie would like be "no romances!!" to the Corroded Coffin group (before the kids joined) and they're like why? and Eddie just to tease them says that he doesn't want to pretend to fall for their smelly ugly faces

Which just motivates them to try and seduce like every character that Eddie introduces for a fucking month and it leads to the creation of the rule: Every romance/seduction directed roll must be rolled above 15 to succeed AND if Eddie decides that the attempt is particularly bad the roll is with disadvantage

The Corroed Coffin boys are obviously teasingly like ohhh so we get an advantage if it's good?

"Doubt that would happen boys, but sure, if you make me, Eddie fucking Munson, to blush like a fair maiden then you'll get the advantage on the roll"

They try, they really do, but all the CC boys succeed in doing is killing off all of their party in three sessions and Gareth who is a little shit is actually rolling his third character (because the consequences of a failure are fucking brutal) by the time Jeff and [unnamed freak] give up

After that they know better (except Gareth who still sometimes does that just to annoy Eddie and be a little shit) to try and then the kids join Hellfire and Eddie has even less of an desire to flirt with fucking Wheeler, Henderson and Sinclair (they're baby children!!)

But the kids are a little shits too and they see Gareth being a little shit so they copy

It ends badly for them, they gripe about Eddie being unfair because like "all three of us have girlfriends Eddie and you don't so we clearly know more about romance then you do" Dustin not only gets a flick on the head for that but his character might have ended up being put into situations™ throughout the session that are "totally unfair!"

But fair to say all of Hellfire knows the rules and all of hellfire knows that no matter how well they try and how smooth they are (they really aren't ever smooth) Eddie will not blush or even consider they attempts as "good", the best they got was "tolerable" (Lucas got it and he's still very proud of it, as he deserves okay?), Eddie is impossible to fluster and so it's just is this fun thing they sometimes do when they feel particularly like little shits

And that's it about it

Until Vecna and all the upside down shit and the surprising friendship of Eddie and Steve happens

And suddenly Steve Harrington is not only sitting but playing D&D

Everything is going actually pretty good and Dustin practically vibrates out of his chair at how proud he is of Steve for how well he is doing so far and then

And then Steve tries to flirt with a pretty bard

Dustin deflates, he is ready for the absolute disaster that is going to fall upon Steve, he makes eye contact with Lucas - both of them ready with "it was actually a pretty good line tho!" at the tip of their tongues to defend Steve's decisions, he doesn't know Eddie's special rules after all and it would be funny to see Steve fail, sure, but it's Steve's first game and the kids wanted it to be good for Steve so convincing him to play again would be easier

But now Eddie is going to absolutely rip into him and Steve will never want to play again and-

"Roll with advantage" Dustin gasps, audibly, loudly, the room is silent, except for Steve who's very unaware of the chaos he just created and just rolls the dices, his usual confidence in place

And if someone looked closely - and all of the hellfire is fucking looking - Eddie Munson has indeed a light blush on his face

[bahoreal]

Question for fic writers!

[faeriekit]

Snowdrift Sanctuary

a phic phight fill for sapphireshield (who isn't on tumblr)

“Is this alright?” Phantom asked quietly, blunt human face pressed into the ruff of his new coat.

There was nothing wrong, but that wasn’t the issue; the human needed reassurance, and reassurance Frostbite could provide.

“Of course,” Frostbite agreed easily, if gently. “Neuschnee made it for you. It was always intended to be yours.”

Humans tended to be sensory-seeking. With no fur of their own, and sensitive skin and hands, they had the ability to physically feel more through touch than his people could. The paw of Frostbite’s remaining arm was tough, callused from work and combat; but the human could swab his face across the ruff and sleeves of his coat and receive textural information that was entirely alien to the yeti mind.

Frostbite would have to ensure that the boy had gloves. It would be a shame if his hypersensitive hands were made damaged by the cold.

“...But,” the boy tried, and to his credit, his concern was sympathetic. “Wouldn’t someone else need the fur? Like, even if you have your own fur…wouldn’ it make a good blanket? Or…something…?”

Petting, for humans, thankfully, seemed to work exactly as it did for his kin. Sure, Frostbite had to be more gentle with his claws, but combing through and smoothing down the human’s black spot of hair was more than enough for the endorphins to kick in. Oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin would require further study, but the base understanding of hormones were easy to understand: skin on skin contact equalled a well-adjusted human adolescent.

Phantom’s eyes drooped. Frostbite smiled to himself. The sight was identical to Salju’s cubs settling down before a nap.

“We are not low on resources,” Frostbite soothed, half-purring. It was an immature noise, but conducive to soothing distressed young. “We are not hungry. We are prosperous, and require little; as an adept living with our people, we would be remiss not to provide for you.”

…The human’s nose crinkled.

“It is our job to give you things so that you do not fade,” Frostbite clarified.

Phantom’s face flushed a warm red. The adolescent’s half-human biology was fascinating.

And, true, it would probably be easier to care for Phantom if he remained in his ghostly form all the time, but it would be unfair and dangerous for his long-term development to force him to do so. Phantom was a half-human, and deserved to spend time adjusting to all of his forms. Neuschnee had already begun working on the human’s boots; soon he would no longer be confined only to Frostbite’s warmed residence. With a thick hood and gloves to cover his extremities, Frostbite had little doubt that the human would soon be wrestling with (gentle) age-mates, practicing his English with his sister’s pilfered human texts, and learning how to control his snow.

Phantom was very small. He was very delicate, and there was an instinct in Frostbite that continued to worry that handling him wrong might snap the human in half. A yeti at Phantom’s height would still be a very young cub, and yet twice as sturdy and twice as broad.

Still, he was a bright, kind being, and… Frostbite sighed. And he had no understanding of why the human’s parents had rejected him for his current state.

And, certainly, his human sister had tried to explain it to him, bundled in three coats and her red nose weeping in the cold as she begged for his sanctuary. The prospect was merely mind-boggling to him. Young were rare and precious. Their natures were never guaranteed. What was the use of rejecting a cub you had spent a decade raising?

…Frostbite exhaled carefully out his nose. It was not his job to understand their attitude. It was only his role to act in their place until the half-human came of age.

“You don’t have to,” Phantom muttered, face a curious shade of red. Having red internal fluids made for interesting displays of emotion. “I…I can work it off, or…”

Frostbite continued petting the human. The human did not continue speaking.

“Or,” Frostbite continued kindly, “You may join Pritla, Nieve and I, and assist us in devouring a nice, cold, glacier shark. We buried it last season, so it is no longer toxic to digest outright.”

Phantom snorted out a laugh. Yes, there would be human-appropriate food available for him, but Frostbite was not joking about the shark. Now that the toxins had drained into the soil for months, he was happy to take his turn ripping huge chunks of flesh with his teeth for an evening meal. And, who knows; perhaps the enrichment value of consuming a fermented shark with one's bare hand would pique Phantom’s interest in other traditional foods?

“Will there be silverware?” Phantom asked, teasing. He accepted Frostbite’s proffered hug, engaging in sensory-seeking activity in the same way he had with his new coat. Frostbite was ecstatic.

“Of course not,” Frostbite rumbled, more than pleased. “Use of weaponry during mealtimes is explicitly cheating. Now, are you comfortable defending your plate from younger cubs, or should I shield you with my body?”

Frostbite might not have felt prepared to care for Phantom, but raising a half-human would undoubtedly be a fascinating experience.

Besides; unlike mortal parents, the burden of keeping Phantom alive was already largely moot.

[izzystizzys]

“ - but have you ever considered, I don’t know, not sucking all the time? Just a thought.”

It takes the combined grips of Nuisance and Hound to keep the wriggling, snarling body beneath Fox from throwing him off its back. With three years’ practice of having to fix his own rickety desk chair over and over again, the movement merely ruffles the proverbial fringe on his helmet.

“And I don’t mean that as an insult, necessarily. Well, I do a little bit. But also I have some amount of empathy for the no doubt immense amounts of trauma that had to go into the creation of something so dysfunctional as you, on a very personal level, so have you considered going to the root of that in a way that’s like… useful? Instead of wasting it all on kriffing Kenobi, I mean. Look at the guy. All he does all day is drink tea and commit warcrimes. I bet he knits for fun. Bit of an embarrassing nemesis, don’t you think?”

“I”, says Kenobi, then pauses. The space between his eyebrows is creased with uncertainty, and he looks deeply torn between continuing rocking the shaking Duchess of Mandalore against his chest from his corner of the throne room and re-activating his lightsaber to continue losing his fight against the Darksider Fox is currently sitting on. “I feel like I should object to some part of that, but I’m not entirely clear on what. Or how this happened, again. Isn’t Mandalore a few star systems from your purview, Commander?”

“Probably the warcrimes”, mutters Nuisance underneath his strained breath.

“About as far from my supposed assignment as yours, General”, says Fox a little louder.

Kenobi twitches. Fox cannot claim to know which of them does it. Both, maybe. Probably.

“I will - taste - your - flesh!”, heaves out Darth Maul, snarling and hissing.

“Oooh, kinky!”, calls Grids, from the corner where she’s got her stun-setting aimed at the other Zabrak, currently passed out cold. Fox sighs deeply. He knew he shouldn’t have taken those three - any combination of Grids, Hound and Nuisance in a room together usually spelled chaos.

Unfortunately, it also spelled competence. The Basic alphabet can be funny that way.

The point being: as of some months into the war, one of Fox’s assigned tasks is the surveillance of all GAR-wide communication. All command-class staff theoretically got that memo, but no one seems to have read the fine print where that includes both professional and personal communication, as well as any and all comm devices registered or suspected to be registered to that person. Especially not one Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala.

The point further being, if that sounds both immensely impractical and sort of terrifying in a democratic supposedly non-surveillance state, you’d be bang on the credits, and to Fox’ eternal chagrin the singular person in this whole useless army who’s spent the second of thinking necessary for that conclusion.

The final point being, when one frantic General’s mad dash across the Galaxy to rescue his teenage sweetheart from the spectre of his supposedly dead nemesis crosses his desk on its way to the Chancellor’s inbox, it doesn’t take much time for him to block any and all trace of it across the digital space of the GAR commboard and take matters into his own hands.

“ - which is why I told Thorn to suck it up and be in charge for a few days, and also why you’re still alive, your Highness, very welcome, was no trouble at all”, he concludes, drily. The Duchess stares the wide-eyed look of someone attempting to reconcile clones with ‘sentience’ or perhaps ‘personality’ in her head, but won’t say it outright.

Or the look of someone who’s just been violently overthrown and nearly murdered, perhaps, Fox allows.

“Um -“, Kenobi hedges, blinking rapidly.

“And the reason you’re still alive, probably. You’re welcome for that too, by the way”, Grids calls from the back of the throne room, cheekily.

“Alright”, says Kenobi, loudly. There’s color back in his deathly-pale cheeks, Fox notes, even if that color is a lot of red. It doesn’t fade very gracefully into his beard. “Opinions on whether or not I had everything under control notwithstanding -“

“You really didn’t”, Hound supplies helpfully.

“ - opinions notwithstanding, I am admittedly still lost on why you’re now sitting on Darth Maul and attempting to, to - jeer at him, Marshall Commander!”

“We’re not jeering, we’re trying to create a safe space and lay the groundwork for more open communication”, Fox says, primly.

Maul screams into the ground, attempting for the umpteenth time to rear up and visit great violence upon Fox, which admittedly has him rattling in his crosslegged seat atop his back.

Kenobi raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Safe space?”

“He’s restrained and not stabbing anyone, I personally feel much safer than before”, Grids muses. “Watch the teeth though, Hound. Little biter.”

Indeed. Fox’s right greave will have to be replaced posthaste.

“And anyways, the point isn’t to jeer at him, it’s to make clear that he’s focusing his energy in the wrong places and could be doing much better things with his admittedly not-great life”, Fox adds, shifting to cast a pointed look down at Maul. The Sith is panting open-mouthed into the durasteel floor, sharp teeth gnashing wildly as his piercing yellow eyes shine with barely restrained rage. “I’m just saying - aim higher. You aren’t seeing the forest for the Kenobis, Maul. Can I call you Maul?”

“I will feed you your own entrails”, yowls Maul.

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Right now, I’m an easy target to focus all that built-up rage on, but is killing me really going to help you achieve any of your goals? No! Think about it - when it all comes down to it, who sent you on that mission to Naboo in the first place? Who made sure the Jedi and, by extension, Kenobi would be there to kill you? Who used you as a dejarik piece and then cast you aside the second you outlived your usefulness?”

Beneath him, Maul slowly stills in his struggle, still panting heavily. Hound and Nuisance don’t let it deter them in their vigilance, because they’re damn good vod’e and possess an ounce of common sense.

“And, look, I get it. I could spend the rest of my life punching every civilian who spits on me in the streets and it would even be satisfying. I could hit back the Senators who think of clones as easy targets. Or - I can aim my sights at who’s on top. And I think you know who I mean, because you know as well as I do the same damn man has ruined both our lives.”

Kenobi makes an alarmed noise, and Maul an interested one - not that Fox is going to let him walk out of this place awake. Still, he tilts his head in a way he hopes conveys his helmeted grin successfully to non-vod, as well as the bloodlust behind it. “You’re also welcome for the fact that the Chancellor won’t have heard of your spontaneous resurrection yet, by the way. You’ll retain your element of surprise instead of gambling it away on petty revenge on Kenobi.”

“He cut me in half!”

“He killed my master!”

Fox waves their protests away.

“Also, that’s treason!”, Kenobi adds, sputtering. Fox grins. Kenobi purses his lips, and continues. petulantly, “…do you have any proof?”

“So. Much. Proof”, says Nuisance, dreamily. “Like, do you want it alphabetically or by date?”

Which is when the Duchess, of all people, bursts out into barking, crazed laughter.

“You - you’ve certainly given yourself an edge in that fight, Marshall Commander”, she wheezes, brushing tears from her eyes. Fox raises his eyebrows at her, which she somehow seems to be able to tell, because she gestures at the clunky handle dangling from his belt.

“What, this old thing?” He unclasps the black rectangle from its hook, holding it up in the air. Maul stills strangely beneath him, and Kenobi goes ghostly pale again. Fox is starting to get a bad feeling.

“I took it off Viszla and beat him over the head with it. I figured he’d taken it off a Jedi cadet or something. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

[elliethefroggy]

Operation Seduction

One night when Buck is a bit tipsy, he takes one of those online sexuality tests. The internet informs him that he’s bisexual.

After he sobers up, he starts to consider the possibility that he’s not as straight as he’d previously thought. He takes a few weeks to discretely stare at pretty men. Reads through some forums. Wanders into a few gay bars. Has one very messy make-out session with a man in one of those gay bars (it’s for science).

Thanks to his very scientific research, he realises that not everything you read on the internet is a lie, and that yes, he’s bisexual.

But that realisation doesn’t change the fact that he’s looking for a long-term commitment, no longer interested in flings and one night stands. He wants to settle down.

Though thanks to his recent revelation, this does mean that his dating pool has significantly expanded, allowing room for a whole new gender.

Then in waltzes Tommy, here to save the day. Here to fly them into a literal hurricane. Tommy Kinard. Hot pilot extraordinaire with an amazing cleft chin, an even better ass, pecks Buck wants to smother himself with, and attractive amount of confidence to boot.

How could Buck resist?

But before he gets ahead of himself, Buck has to figure out if Tommy is actually attracted to men. This is rendered easy by the fact that Chimney can’t keep a secret to save his life and is always willing to wax poetic about how cool Tommy is. One not-so-subtle interrogation later, Buck is now aware that Tommy is both very gay and very single.

Excellent.

The next obvious step is to see if Tommy is attracted to Buck. Now Buck knows how to pick up woman. He’s very good at it. He imagines it can’t be that much different to pick up men (if his one make-out session with a man was anything to go by).

But Buck is a changed man. He is Buck 4.0. He doesn’t want to hook up with Tommy. He doesn’t want a one-night stand or a messy make out session in a dark corner of a bar. He doesn’t want to start dating Tommy immediately after sleeping with him only for their relationship to fizzle out a few months down the line because of lack of communication and a misunderstanding of each other’s wants and needs.

So he tests the waters first. Starts hanging out with Tommy more. Gets an invite to those pub quizzes. Takes Tommy up on those flying lessons. Invites Tommy out to as many pretentious craft breweries he can find (that’s another hot tip he weaseled out of Chim).

During all this, his shorts get smaller and smaller. His tops get skimpier and more form-fitting. He wears less sleeves. He starts discreetly flexing in Tommy’s company. He rushes to the gym area whenever Tommy visits the fire station, showing off how much he can lift. He also uses any excuse to take his shirt off around Tommy to the point of pretending to spill greek yogurt all over his front on two occasions.

Buck pays close attention to Tommy’s every expression. He notices when Tommy’s eyes linger on the almost indecent amount of skin Buck is showing. Notices Tommy staring at Buck’s biceps whenever Buck forgoes sleeves. Notices Tommy’s gaze slide down to Buck’s lips whenever they’ve had a little too much fancy craft beer.

Operation Seduction is a go.

Buck ever so slowly starts making their hangouts more and more romantic.

At first, it’s just sandwiches on a bench in a nice park after a shared workout session.

Yes, he did stake out the park beforehand.

Yes, he did choose a nice, secluded bench where they wouldn’t bothered by too many people.

Yes, the bench just so happens to be located next to a very nice flower bed.

And yes, he did spend an hour preparing these sandwiches before the gym, and they tasted fucking fantastic. Admittedly, the deliciousness of the sandwiches does become detrimental when Tommy bites into his and moans around his mouthful.

He takes Tommy out to a nice restaurant with low lighting, cosy booths and excellent pasta. No candles on the table yet, though; it’s too soon for candles. But, the tables are small enough that Buck and Tommy’s long legs are pressed together during the whole meal.

He starts carrying around Tommy’s favourite snacks whenever he has a flying lesson.

(Buck’s heard that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and Buck is taking that very seriously).

Buck thinks his plan is going brilliantly, that he’s the height of discretion.

Tommy being Tommy, he notices all of this. From Buck’s outfits losing more and more fabric to the ever-closing distance between their bodies. He lets it play out for while, wanting to see where Buck goes with whatever he’s doing, but all Buck does is shower him in ever more delicious sandwiches.

It’s not until they’re having a not-officially-romantic walk along the beach as the sun is setting that Tommy finally asks the question he’s been puzzling over for a few weeks.

“What exactly is going on here, Evan?” Tommy asks.

“What do you mean?” Buck asks back, knowing exactly what Tommy is referring to, but trying to buy himself a little time. He’s figuratively hitting himself over the head because of course a sunset walk along the beach was too obvious. They should have gone bowling instead; there’s nothing romantic about bowling shoes.

“Come on,” Tommy says, “The fancy dinners, the even fancier sandwiches, the sunset walks,” he says, waving at the beach they were standing on, the gentle orange rays turning everything soft and golden.

“Ah. Right. That.” Buck says, pondering what to say. He settles on honesty because he would have had to admit to his plan eventually though that was meant to be at the end of Part 3 of Operation Seduction, and he’s only half way through Part 2. “Well, I’m attempting to seduce you.”

It takes a moment for the words to truly register in Tommy’s mind. And then hope inches its way in.

Because Tommy had an inkling that Evan was attracted to him. But he hadn’t allowed the hope to grow; he’d been burned one too many times when it came to romance.

Tommy enjoys Evan’s company, enjoys it more than he probably should. Evan was a fun, lovable man with a beautiful personality and the face to match. What’s not to like. But Tommy hadn’t wanted to ruin their growing friendship by testing out if Evan really liked him or not.

And here’s Evan, having the courage to try what Tommy could not.

“If you’re not interested, I’ll stop immediately, of course. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Evan says when Tommy is quiet for too long.

“I never said I wasn’t interested.” Tommy says immediately, and then watches as a gigantic and oh so sincere smile blossoms on Evan’s face. Tommy can’t do anything but smile back.

“That’s good. Because I really like you,” Evan says.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, trying to not sound as breathless as he feels because that hope that he has been beating down with a broom is rising up tenfold.

“Yeah,” Evan says, “Does this mean I can continue seducing you?”

“Seduce away,” Tommy says, then adds because he wants Evan to understand, “But you do know I don’t need all that?” Tommy is more than willing to start making out with Evan on the spot now that he knows he hasn’t been imagining all the wanting looks Evan’s been sending his way.

“But I want to,” Evan says, “It’s just, well, I’ve been told that I sometimes take things too fast, especially with dating, and I’m trying to be better about that. I want to be better. I want to do this properly. You’re the kind of person who deserves it. You deserve to be properly courted.”

“Courted? I’m being courted now.”

“Yes.” Evan nods. And Evan means every word, and Tommy sees that, and Tommy really wants that.

“Okay,” Tommy says because what else do you say when a hot, sincere, wonderful guy informs you that he wants to court you in the 21st century? You agree.

After that conversation, they are both on the same page. They’re not dancing around each other, they’re actively dancing towards one another. Though it’s less dancing and more Evan sashaying towards Tommy, a peacock strutting about with its tail feathers out on full display. They both know full well where this is going, how this dance ends, and they’re both happy to take their time on the journey there.

(Though Tommy is a bit impatient to get to the kissing part because he thinks he’ll enjoy kissing Evan quite a lot. But the joy on Evan’s face whenever Evan gets to do something even remotely romantic for Tommy makes the wait worthwhile.)

Once Buck has Tommy’s full permission to continue with seducing him, Operation Seduction goes to a whole new level. No longer needing to be subtle with his interest, Buck gleefully skips all the way to Part 5.

He goes on full seductor mode.

And Tommy has no idea what to do with himself. He hadn’t realised how much Evan was holding back until Tommy gave him the ‘go ahead’, but having Evan’s full attention on him is a thing to behold.

There are hikes in the hills surrounding LA accompanied by picnics at the very top with spectacular views and spectacular company (and also sandwiches that somehow get even fancier).

There is even more craft beer in places so obscure that even Tommy’s never heard of.

There are movie nights filled to the brim with some of Tommy’s favourite romcoms.

It’s not until Evan takes them to a drive-in movie of Love Actually that Tommy realises Evan has an informant, but Tommy is having so much fun that he doesn’t give Chim shit for revealing all his secrets to Evan.

Evan opens the door for Tommy at every opportunity he can get. When they drive somewhere together, Evan will ask Tommy to wait so that Evan can rush around the car to open Tommy’s door for him all the while Tommy stares at him bemused, but charmed all the same.

There are candle-lit dinners with rose petals scattered over the tablecloth. Tommy’s being showered in so many amazing home-cooked meals that he considers upping his work-outs just so he can eat more of them.

And flowers. There are so many flowers. The first time Evan offers him a bouquet, Tommy doesn't know what to say; no one has ever given him flowers before. Tommy couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. He’s sure Evan noticed because barely a week later, he gets another bouquet. Tommy had to go and buy himself a vase because he didn’t have anywhere to put them.

Throughout all of this, Evan is constantly asking Tommy if something is ok, checking in to make sure Tommy isn’t uncomfortable.

On their second sunset walk along a beach, Evan asks Tommy if he can hold Tommy’s hand. And of course, Tommy says yes. Evan’s hand is about as big as Tommy’s, and it’s so warm in Tommy’s own.

After that, Evan is always asking to hold Tommy’s hand no matter where they are or what they’re doing. Tommy says yes every single time. Even if it’s during a long hike or just after a gym session together when their hands are both sweaty and disgusting. And despite doing it so often, Evan always has that big smile on his face whenever Tommy agrees. Tommy is just the same.

But after a few weeks, the anxiety starts creeping in.

Because Tommy’s not used to this. Not used to so much effort being put into dating him (Are they even dating yet? Tommy’s not sure; it definitely feels like dating. But when in the courting process is Tommy allowed to call it dating? He should ask Evan for clarification.)

When it comes to romantic relationships, Tommy is usually the one doing all the work, coming up with all the outing ideas. He’s not used to the reverse, and he’s not completely sure how he’s meant to act in this situation.

When he asks Evan if he should be returning the seduction, Evan smiles at him and says, “You ask me that as though you haven’t already inadvertently seduced me. That terrible fake mouth static really did it for me.”

Evan informs him that he’s meant to sit back and enjoy the ride, nothing more. And so Tommy does.

(Tommy does also ask if they’re allowed to call it dating yet, but according to Evan’s clipboard and the very detailed spreadsheet attached to the clipboard, it is still too early call it dating. Tommy nods in agreement when Evan informs him of that, but Tommy still calls it dating in his head.)

(Tommy tries to ignore how hot and bothered it makes him to see Evan with the clipboard because, according to the spreadsheet, what he wants to do to Evan is not in the cards any time soon.)

But then it’s Buck’s turn to be anxious. The last time he took it this slow was with Abby, and that did not end well.

Despite the very detailed plan, despite all the thought he’s put into Operation Seduction, he wonders if maybe he’s taking it too far.

He knows not everyone likes this pedantic side of him, especially when he’s got a clipboard at hand.

When he shares these worries with Tommy, when he suggests that maybe they give up the plan entirely and just admit that they’ve basically already been dating for months, Tommy refuses.

“You made a colour-coded spreadsheet. Of course, we’re finishing the plan.” Tommy is invested now even though he has long since been seduced. Also, fuck knows how much time Evan took to make the spread-sheet. “What’s next?” He asks.

Evan smiles as he looks down at his phone to open said-spreadsheet (constantly carrying around a clipboard can be a hassle, so he also has a digital version on his phone. Tommy would not mind constantly seeing Evan with a clipboard).

“Uh, right. Next up is star-gazing.”

And so they go star-gazing, and they have an amazing time, just like they always do.

One day, Evan hesitantly asks Tommy if he wants to go on a hot air balloon ride. Like every time Evan asks him for something, Tommy says yes.

Even though Tommy is used to these heights, the hot air balloon ride is amazing (though that could have more to do with Evan than anything. Evan who handed him the largest bouquet of flowers yet before they lifted off and who packed them a whole bunch of Tommy’s favourite snacks for the ride.)

As they admire the view, Evan showers him in so many hot air balloon facts that even the person flying them is riveted.

Evan quiets down after a while because even he had to run out of facts eventually.

Instead, they quietly watch the small world beneath them, shoulders pressed against one another, not an inch of room between them. And it’s nice. It’s so wonderfully nice that Tommy’s starting to suspect that that he’s going to want to keep this, to keep Evan for a long, long while.

“So how far along in the plan are we?” Tommy asks instead of asking how much longer before he gets to kiss Evan.

“Actually, funny you should mention that. This is actually the before-last part of the plan.”

“What’s the last?” Tommy asks.

Evan turns to face him, their shoulders no longer pressed together, but their bodies still so close.

“Tommy Kinard,” Evans says, grabbing Tommy’s hand and interlacing his fingers with Tommy’s, “Will you do me the honour of dating me?”

“There is nothing I would love more,” Tommy says, because again, what else can he say?

They lean into each over even further. Tommy lets go of Evan’s hand and instead places two fingers underneath Evan’s chin, tilting Evan’s head up towards him. And finally, after all this time, they kiss.

Operation Seduction is a resounding success, and the infamous spreadsheet will one day be framed and hanging in a place of honour in their future home.

[blooms-in-april]

Obsessed with the idea it's illegal in Oxenfurt to execute or arrest someone while there is a theatre performance going on. So when Jaskier is finally arrested for being the Sandpiper and an associate of the fugitive Geralt of Rivia, all his students band together to perform the longest musical the Continent has ever seen.

Yes, it's about his life. Yes, it's very personal. And yes, fugitive Geralt and Ciri end up in the audience, of course they do.

[likeshipsonthesea]

you make me

bucktommy ficlet. had a convo about love. had some feelings. gave them to buck. enjoy~

The entire loft is soaked in the hazy blue light of pre-morning. Buck can hear the mechanical thrum of garbage collectors, a handful of singing birds, quiet but steady breathing. His body is sore, from work and then from Tommy, a satisfying reminder of a yesterday well spent. Everything is warm and soft like Saturday morning, even though he's fairly sure it's Tuesday.

The clock on his bedside table tells him it's much too early to get up for a Tuesday, so he turns over to get comfortable and ends up face to face with Tommy's sleep-slacked expression.

Buck watches him in that way that's only creepy if you're not in love. Takes note of his eyelashes resting against the tops of his cheeks, his lips shadowed by the slant of his nose, how the dawning daylight catches on the angles of his face. He wants to touch, but not enough to disturb the serenity of sleep on his boyfriend's face.

Eddie tells him he says that a lot. My boyfriend. "We all know his name," Eddie says, tone harsh but a creeping smirk giving away the joke.

When Buck brought it up with Dr. Copeland, she asked him why he thinks he says it so much, but it was towards the end of their session so they didn't really get into it. Buck thinks it's probably something to do with his self-image problems, or maybe his abandonment issues? Dr. Copeland's better with the answers than he is.

Calling him Tommy is fine, but saying my boyfriend says my meatless lasagna needs more starch just reminds Buck that Tommy's his and, even more novel, Buck is Tommy's.

Buck likes being Tommy's boyfriend.

Tommy's boyfriend knows Tommy's coffee order, and drops it off along with a savory treat for him at the start of a long shift. Tommy's boyfriend always knows exactly where Tommy left his blue-light glasses and grabs them before they head to bed so Tommy can read another chapter of the cheesy historical fiction novel on his tablet. Tommy's boyfriend is the one Tommy goes to after a hard shift, to talk to or hug or just sit in the same room with until the rest of the world is less heavy.

As Tommy's boyfriend, Buck is still all the things he was before--firefighter, brother, friend--but knowing there's someone who trusts him enough to sleep beside him and let him stare at their face like a creeper in the early hours of the morning--there's this unfathomable freedom to it.

It's like--if Tommy loves him, he must be worthy of it. It's a truth and a prophecy, self-fulfilling. It's this ever-turning cycle that bolsters Buck to be the best version of himself, and none of it feels like work because it's all tangled up with joy.

"How long have you been staring at me?"

Buck startles out of his internal monologue to find Tommy's left eye open. The right is buried in his pillow along with the lifted corner of his mouth.

"Probably a little too long," Buck admits, staring fixedly at that corner of Tommy's mouth.

Tommy's lips part to release a sigh before settling into a smile. "Evan. Go back to sleep."

"In a minute."

Tommy shifts closer on the pillow, his nose nudging Buck's, his morning breath awful and his eyes so close Buck thinks their eyelashes might tangle. "You worked a 24-hour shift yesterday. You need to sleep. You can stare at me tomorrow."

"Promise?"

Tommy brushes their lips together. "Promise."

Buck finds Tommy's hand between them and laces their fingers together. "Alright," he says, settling back into the mattress and letting his eyes shut as he brings their hands to his sternum. "Tomorrow."

[wandixx]

I have an idea that includes two person love square because identity shenanigans are always fun, but I have no idea what they should do, despite having fun dynamics between them, like:

"Of course they're dating" said Public Opinion about Miss Martian and Phantom, right after she broke his heart a bit by telling him she was in love with someone else (Megan's long distance best friend, Danny). Before this happened, Phantom was overly flirtatious to both Miss Martian and Megan, so she asked Danny what to do about "This one guy in my sports team" and his advice is to tell him to "Fuck off". She does exactly that, without quite understanding the weight of the word and Phantom is stunned into obedience (and he understands that no means no)

Anyway, I need help with actual... plot. Situations I put them through, because I'm determined to write it. They would be cute together imo.

[sneez]

thinking about gwynplaine having speech loss episodes and using tactile sign language to communicate with dea :-) please don't tag as body horror or anything similar [id in alt text]

[wwillywonka]

hello lgbt community. i just wrote over 2000 words of a star trek fanfic in two hours

[bibewilderedandbuck]

First time they say ‘boyfriend’ this or ‘my hot pilot’ that. What about the crew finding out tommy and buck fucked bc he thinks he cant donate blood?

Only the worker at the drive tells him that the only criteria for Not being able to donate in California is: close contact/lived with someone with hepatitis in the last three months, having tested positive for HIV, or undergone dental surgery in the last 72 hours.

Everyone looks at Buck expectantly and he nods holding out his arm. “Can’t believe i just told everyone that we had sex.” He doesn’t look the slighted bit ashamed.

Tommy slaps a hand on Buck’s shoulder and eyes the clearly visible hickeys that go from his ear to under his collar. “I think they already knew, babe.”