#COME GET THINE FOODS

[atschoolunfortunetly]

Sonic and Tails Wholesome Wednesday: My Comeback

I LIVE! I going to be honest with ya; this is simply a draft I rewrote in my free time. I don't know if I will be posting every single Wednesday again. I can try but don't have hope. In any case, enjoy the story!

~~~~~

Tails was working away in his workshop with no distractions. He was near completion when a knock on his door startled him and his head nearly whipped around so fast that one would think he broke it.

Sonic walked in without Tails saying a word and had one expression on his face that Tails knew meant he was in for a lecture. Disappointment.

“Tails,” He began tiredly.

“Sonic,” Tails greeted back, hoping not to show nervousness on his face.

“What happened to the mint ice-cream I just bought yesterday?”

Oh, and here Tails thought he did something seriously wrong. Nerves left his body as a slight grin grew on his face.

“...I ate it.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

Silence before Sonic let out the biggest sigh Tails had ever heard come from his mouth.

“Tails.”

“Sonic.”

“You know the consequences, don’t you?”

Tails tried not to chuckle, “I have fifteen seconds to hide before you hunt me down?”

“Nah, that’s for if you had the last chili-dog. The punishment for this is,” Sonic paused for dramatic effect, “Death! Execution! Thine bloodline ends here brother!”

“Gasp, you’re gonna kill me? How could thine? I thought our bond was stronger than this!” Tails spoke dramatically.

“Our bond shattered when you ate an entire carton of mint ice cream by yourself even though I told you not to. I’ll grant you this question though brother, how do thine wish to go out? Your choice,” Sonic smiled, trying not to laugh.

“Uh, hm,” Tails faked pondering, “How about no? No death at all.”

“No? Thine denies his fate!? Then I shall choose!” Sonic declared before tapping his feet and snapping his fingers, trying to think out a way he can continue the bit.

Tails took this opportunity to get up from his chair and bolt for the nearest window. Sonic, having too much fun, used this chance to run into the house to pick up two plastic swords before meeting Tails outside.

He tossed one of the swords over to Tails and twirled the other in his hand, “Thou can’t escape his fate! We shall duel!”

Tails looked shocked at first before giggling. He then got in a fighting stance with a grin, “Fight we shall! Only one brother can make it out alive!”

The plastic swords clashed as Sonic and Tails began going back and forth with swings and jabs only barely missing their marks. Sonic decided he would put some actual effort in and Tails began losing…badly. He tried his best, honest! But his arms were getting tired and his moves were getting sloppy.

Tails tripped over his own feet, landing backwards on the ground getting his fur dirty. The fake sword in Sonic’s hand poked him lightly in the chest. His brother had a big grin on his face while Tails was simply trying to catch his breath, not caring that they lost their little game. His stomach let out a growl and Sonic sighed.

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked.

“Uh…” Aw crud, what was the last thing he ate? “I…I think I accidentally ate a fly just a bit ago. Does that count?”

“No, eating unlucky flies does not count,” Sonic flatly stated before pulling out his phone, “Pizza or Chinese?”

“Chinese, we had pizza yesterday,” Tails answered with a sigh.

“Alrighty, you go in and take a shower and the food should be back by then.”

Tails pulled himself off the ground with a smile and looked Sonic in the eye, “Next time, I’m going to win!”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh!”

Sonic chuckled, “Alright then, when you do I’ll buy another carton of mint ice cream.”

Tails laughed and made his way back inside without replying. Sonic simply shook his head with a smile, “God, what would I do without this kid.”

[reashot]

Aurum The Dragonslayer. (1/2)

Several years after the defeat of Salem and two decades before Aurum met Jaune's younger self. Tells a story of how Aurum became known as the Dragonslayer.

First born of Jaune and Yang, two great heroes during the war against Salem. Born into this world weak and small, many did not expect him to survive childhood but to everyone's surprise he did not only survive past it but grew up to be bigger and stronger as time went on. Now in his sixteen years of age he towers over his peers and most adults. His skill with a sword surpasses many renowned warriors of his time.

And now embarking on a quest he can be seen walking into a seedy tavern out in the middle of nowhere in order to fulfill his quest. Aurum opens the wooden door of the bar to walk inside the tavern. The loud metallic stomp from his boots caused all eyes inside the bar to turn on him. To see what kind of fool that would dare to visit this den of ill repute.

And to their surprise and delight they indeed saw a fool. They saw a fool wearing full body armor from head to toe.

"Thine looking for a guide across the western mountain." Thus speak the armored fool.

The patrons however paid Aurum no mind and continued with their day drinking.

"Thy liege. King Ozcar has given thine a royal writ. That states any subjects of the kingdom must render aid when asked to by the recipient." He proudly exclaims his royal authority to a room full of drunken degenerates.

When Aurum mentioned the monarch Ozcar. Instead of bowing in reference to their superior. The patrons just ignored him even harder. For there's not a lot of love for the monarchy this far out in the wild.

At first he does not understand why these "fine" people did not try to help him. Aurum may be a master of the blade but reading the room is not one of his expertise. So if appealing to their sense of fealty did not work he would try to appeal to their avarice instead. "Of course Thine would not expect for thee to toil for free. Thine is willing to offer adequate reward if thou are willing to help thine out."

Their head starts to turn to the direction of the Knight after the mention of a reward.

"Thine needed a guide. For thine wishes to go to face the dragon Tiamat."

The tavern that was once as silent as the grave erupted at the mention of Tiamat.

"Are you insane!" The first shout rang.

"You can't kill Tiamat!" The second explained the absurdity of Aurum's statement.

"Get the F**k out of here!" The third one explains what the patrons wanted out of the Knight.

Then after that they just throw insults and slurs like questioning the sexuality of the Knight. When that was not enough the patrons started throwing things at Aurum From foods to beer bottles. Fortunately this is where having an armor actually comes in useful. He didn't even need to activate his Aura as the bottle simply broke upon contact.

"Art thou done with thy foolishness?" Aurum calmly states as all manners of debris clutter the floor near him and on his self.

"How much you paying?" One dissenting voice comes from the back corner of the room. The man sitting in the corner is a lot older than he is, probably the same age as his father. He also wore a suit of armor albeit tattered and dirty unlike Aurum's shiny golden armor. But Aurum notices that the man sitting is also a warrior like himself by the looks of it and he has probably been in a few fights himself.

Aurum walks towards the corner of the room to meet the person. "Two millions Lien. If thou accept thine request then thine will give thee half and the rest afterwards."

The amount that was offered caused an immediate shift in the atmosphere inside the tavern. "Two millions... Why so generous, sir knight?"

"Thine would not asketh thou to risk thy life on a pittance." Aurum simply stated.

"How very noble of you, sir knight. Very well we will depart immediately." The man grabbed his glass and immediately down the entire thing.

Some times later.

"So, sir knight I was wondering?" The guide subtly gesturing to the Knight behind him.

"Thou may ask thine a question." Aurum gives him permission.

"Thank you, sir knight. May I ask who I currently have the pleasure of conversing with? Because we were not properly introduced back there."

"Very well thy suppose thou deserve to know. Thine name is Aurum Arc. Son of Jaune Arc.

"You're Jaune's son?" The guide was surprised upon hearing Jaune's name.

"Thou knoweth my father?" Aurum's eyes widened.

"You have no idea... Still. He became a hero and he had a kid? Good for him I guess."

"What was thine father were like back then?" Aurum asked the guide again.

"... I'm sorry I can't."

"Prithee tell thine why not?"

"Because there's no use in telling someone who's about to die." The guide then loudly whistles.

Aurum immediately stands at the ready preparing for what comes next. At first he saw one person appearing from the bush, then two, three, four until finally there were twelve of them. All of them are more dirty and tattered than the last. Noticing that he is now surrounded he finally draws his sword while the rogues cackle in the background.

[password-door-lock]

Saeran comes in from the garden just as you’re adding the pasta to the water you’ve set to boil. “Is there anything I can do to help you, my love?” His gentle voice carries across the kitchen as he takes care to shut the door behind him. 

You turn to face your husband. You’re delighted— though not at all surprised— to see the flower in his hand. “You can chop the parsley for me, if you want.” You step away from your cooking to rummage through the dish cupboard for a vase to hold the flower. “What did you bring me?” Though you’re getting better at identifying the flowers Saeran grows in his garden, you still haven’t mastered the art. You certainly don’t know half as much as he does about the flower language and lore surrounding the blooms he cares for. 

“It’s a Dahlia,” Saeran explains, placing the pink flower into the strangely-shaped vase. “It’s got several meanings in the language of flowers, like beauty and confidence. But it also means ‘forever thine,’ and it symbolizes elegance.” 

“It’s lovely,” you beam at him. You don’t need Saeran to explain why he chose this flower in particular for your candlelit dinner. Obviously, it’s going to be a very elegant affair, even if it’s taking place in the same dining room where you and Saeran share all of your meals. “Did you pick out a candle?” 

“Mhm.” Per the tradition that you and Saeran established when you first moved in together, it’s his turn to choose the candle and your turn to cook. 

As Saeran busies himself with searching for the candle, you turn around to add the garlic and oil to your saucepan on the stove. Saeran doesn’t tend to like too much garlic in his food, so you use a bit less than the recipe calls for. It goes without saying that you hold the red pepper flakes. You can add those to your own plate after you’re finished cooking. 

After a few moments, you feel your husband’s arms around you as he envelops you in a soft hug. He sets the candle on the counter beside the stove. “Vanilla cashmere,” he reads the name of the scent. 

“It… smells like a sweater?” You don’t know how that could be possible. 

Saeran chuckles. “It smells like a candle.” 

“Well, I would hope so,” you stir the garlic gently. The kitchen fills with the aroma of the sauce on the stove. “But I trust your judgment. I’m sure it’ll smell great.” 

Saeran releases you from the hug and makes his way to the empty counter on the other side of the stove. “I’ll chop the parsley like you said.” He finds a knife and a cutting board. “Did you wash it already?” 

“No,” you admit, “I was too busy setting the table. Did you see the placemats?” 

“They’re very nice,” Saeran nods, appraising your table setting-skills as he brings the parsley to the sink. “But my love… I got the same ones from the home goods store when I was choosing our candle.” 

“Oh no.” Your hand flies to your mouth to stifle your laughter. “Not again. Maybe we should just go shopping together so we don’t buy any more duplicates.” 

Saeran shrugs, setting to work chopping the parsley. “We think the same even when we’re not together— that means we’re connected.” 

“Okay, sure,” you concede with a laugh, “And I’ll admit, that’s very romantic. But it also means we have two sets of the same placemats, two of the same area rug, and three of the same wall hanging.” Granted, the third identical wall hanging was a gift from Saeyoung, who thought the story behind the first two was hilarious and evidently wanted to join in the fun. 

“I see your point, my darling.” Saeran finds you again, wrapping his arms around you and swaying slightly as you stir the pasta in the pot. It’s just about ready to mix with the sauce. You turn the heat down, reserving some of the water and setting it aside as you maneuver over to the sink. Saeran continues to cling to you, planting gentle kisses on your neck and making you giggle as you locate the strainer. “What flavor ice cream did you get?” 

“Pumpkin spice,” you admit. 

“Already?” Saeran asks, holding the colander for you as you dump out the pasta. 

“The store had it, so I bought it.” You and Saeran shuffle strangely back over to the stove so you can add the pasta and reserved water to the sauce. “What’s so funny?” But you’re laughing too, just because Saeran is laughing. 

“It's just that I had the same idea.” You can hear his grin in his voice. “I got the pumpkin spice ice cream as soon as the store started selling it, but I wanted to surprise you, so I hid it in the downstairs freezer.” 

You howl with laughter. God, the two of you really are the perfect couple. “Next time, let’s just go to the store together.” 

“Of course,” says Saeran, “I love spending time with you.” 

[satlun]

Unspoken Truth: Don John x fem!reader

Genre: angst Trigger Warnings: insult

The truth that will never be spoken

Author's Note: THIS ONE IS REALLY GOOD TRUST ME. So, in this writing I included Shakespeare dialogue style in it but if some of you want to read it more smoothly you can focus on the bold text, their meaning. At first, I want to add Shakespeare writing style for every dialogue but I think it's gonna be too long and maybe useless?? So I tried to change the language to be more beautiful instead; more formal?? So enjoy guys, I really love this one.

Credits: -

The place where it is located on the hills in Messina, a port city on the island of Sicily. The big house which is full of vineyards and gardens is owned by Don John's father. He's a rich nobleman who is one of the most richest man in Sicily. A man name Don Predo is the next descendant and Don John is his half- younger brother.

You're one of the servants that his father fostered from an orphanage. He gave his servants chances to not end up or stuck their life in the cage of the orphanage, to have better life or at least have money for their own. You always appreciate his grace for adopting you. You wouldn't have such a better life if he wasn't gave you a chance. At least you don't have to stuck there forever, here you have good friends, food and a nice place to sleep every night. That's enough, you don't need much. Greediness isn't in your blood.

Everything sounds perfect except the fact that his son name Don John, who is arrogant and selfish unlike his older brother. So, the relationship between you and him is not quite well. You are not get along with him since you were young, even he is around your age. He always treats you badly even he seems to treat you better when you both grow up. However, you can't do anything at all because he is also one of your masters and the grace that you have for his father is so strong. Moreover, you are the most beautiful servant in this house, everyone knows that. Some of his guests or his friends that come to his house always compliment you in the way you look or your manners;

“Fair maiden, thy beauty doth outshine the sun and mock the stars, a visage fit for royalty, not menial tasks!” - “Lady, your beauty shines from the sun and mocks the stars. A face fit for a royal family not a disrespectful job!”

“Nay, I curse not fate, nor fortune's cruel hand, but the very stars that cast thee in this lowly role! Thou wert born to grace a noble house, not serve within these walls...” - “No, I didn't curse fate or the cruel hands of fortune but it is the stars that cast you in this humble role! You were born to honor noble houses. Do not serve within these walls…”

“By heavens, mine eyes have never gazed upon such a vision! Beauty unparalleled, a sweetness that doth charm the very air, a presence that draws me like the moon upon the tide, and a heart, I do believe, as gentle as a summer's morn! Surely, fate itself did weave this tapestry, bringing us together on this blessed day. To meet thee, fairest lady, is an honor beyond compare.” - “By heaven, my eyes have never stared at such a vision! Unrivaled beauty The sweetness that attracts the air, a presence that draws me in like the moon at the tide, and my heart, I believe, is as gentle as a summer's morning! Of course fate itself has woven this tapestry. Bringing us together on this happy day, meeting you, lady. It is an honor that cannot be compared.”

“Fair lady, should my humble offer find no favor in thine eyes, then know this: my heart shall conquer any obstacle to claim thee as my wife.” - “Lady, if my humble offer finds no favor in your sight. Know this: my heart will overcome any obstacle to claim you as my wife.”

they all offer you to have a beautiful better life, to be their wife. However, you always end up rejecting them because you do love it here, this place is like your house now and the fact that you want to repay this kindness for his father until you die. You have an oath to yourself that you will not leave this house until his father tells you so or his father matches you with someone to marry to. He is like a real father for you meanwhile he also treats you like his real daughter.

The sound of the music playing in the background, under the sky with many stars. It's such a beautiful night. Tonight, there are many guests come from all directions around Italy to celebrate Don John's birthday. His father ordered his servants to prepare, decorate and cook for this masquerade party. You and your colleagues are done with the things his father desired. The masquerade came out good as you wish it was.

The sound of giggling and laughing behind the wall seems a little loud that his father could hear it. It's the sound of you and your friends giggling and laughing, looking at the party. Obviously, they all want to join even you. However, they are still servants, they know their place. They are not supposed to be there which is not their place. It would be like that if they live in other houses, not this house where Don John's father lives. “My people.” The similar sound comes from behind them. “Come. Come join the masquerade with me. You have this right to do and I will force you to if you still insist to stay here.” He said it as a joke. He won't actually force anybody to go if the person's will is to stay here. However, they all laugh and jump with happiness when he allows them to join. “Go get dress beautifully and have fun. Oh- there are many left masks on the table at the hallway. Grab them and join.” He smiled before leaving. The servants immediately run into the shower door and get ready to join the masquerade.

Soon, you're in your white dress, the dress that his father gave you in your previous birthday which he gave it to all of his servants when they turn twenty, he said 20th year is the year of change. You will have to overcome or face with many things in your life. So, wearing beautiful dress at least it will make you have confidence in your mind and that will makes you believe in yourself, to choose in a good and right decision no matter how many situations you will face. The dress is a plain white dress but the details and patterns that are delicate and elegant which make it look more beautiful. The moonlight seems brighter than usual. You look up to the sky under your mask, the mask that only covers your upper face and reveals your lower face.

You're a kind of person who is not good at socializing and unfortunately your friends seem to have their partner to dance. While you were walking in the masquerade party with nervous, someone's voice stopped you. “Lady” You follow the voice of the man. He's in his elegant white clothes with a mask that cover all of his face. “It would be a shame... if a beautiful woman like you don't have a partner to dance, so let it be my duty?” He offers you his hand. Your smile slowly forms on your face before you grab his hand. His hand is so soft as if he has never been to war or done any hard work unlike you. You feel a bit more nervous when you think about your rough skin. You just hope that he won't bring it up. “Where are you come from, lady? The North or the South? But I assume you are from the North.” He notices your reaction, tumultuous reactions. Maybe it's not appropriate to ask a woman like this for the first time he met. “Please ignore my inappropriate question.” You could feel a smile under his mask, he tries to make you comfortable as much as possible. You just have an idea that he would think you were one of the noblewomen who just comes here to join the masquerade, celebrate Don John's birthday. The man seems like a good person at the first meet but you can't deny that you still have the thought that he might have an idea to flirt with you like the rest of the men you met. They all wanted to marry you but still court with many different women in the same night. “No- I'm from... here.” The man raises his eyebrows under his mask while his feet still keep moving, dancing along with yours. Your hand is now place on his shoulder. “Here? I've never known that Don John has a sister.” His chuckle comes from his throat. Obviously, he doesn't believe it. “No. Sir. I'm just a servant here.” He let you turn your body under his arm before you both continue to dance and the conversation. “A servant?” He still can't believe that a beautiful woman like you with this good manners than the rest of the people is a servant. “Yes, sir.” He nods as understanding, he doesn't judge you by being a servant at all unlike the rest who would say; you're not supposed to be a servant because your beauty is beyond that or you should be my wife because being a servant is a disrespectful job and you don't deserve that. “Interesting.” That was all of his answer.

It is kind of make you disappointed before he continues the conversation. “My mother... was a servant. After I came back from a war with victory, I got the new rank from the king. I told her that please let go of this living and having a better life with me. However, she still insisted to stay the same, she said; it is my honor to live here, the man who allowed me to live in this place gave a better life than I had before I even have you and I will repay his kindness until I die. Yes, she died two months after the conversation. At the house. Under the man's arms.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “He loves her... but he just can't marry to my mother because she's just a servant in his parents' eyes so they don't allow him to marry her.” He looks into your eyes. “And you're the most woman I've ever seen but I will not ask you to marry me.” You are listening to him carefully, his voice shake a little bit but you could feel that he is trying to not make his voice sound more shaky. “Because I know that all the servants here were fostered. I understand the repayment you all want to give. Thus, it is more like my honor to have the dance with the woman I can't marry with.” That moment, all of your judgment that you had earlier is all gone. He is different from the others. You can feel his kindness through his voice and his story. He didn't force her mother to leave, he just lets her be whatever she wants to be. He truly understands the repayment that his mother wanted to give. “Thank you...” you said with a kind smile on your face. You're also speechless about the story, it's beautiful and melancholic. “Did she love him?” You asked. “Indeed.”

That was all he said before one of his friends interrupted you both. The friend whispers something to him. You don't hear that because of the music and the sound of people having fun. “Lady... I need to go. I am truly sorry for my friend for interrupting you.” You just nod and smile in understanding before he kisses your hand and leaves, he leaves without his name. Your eyes follow the man until you see him walking to Don John. That moment, you see Don John's gaze on you, the gaze which is intense and deep as if it is burning on your skin.

Hours later, you're sitting in the kitchen while washing dishes. The masquerade ended for an hour. All the servants are all in here cleaning up things. The works are almost done so you offer your colleagues that mostly are old to go to sleep first and you with young colleagues will do the rest. Soon, they are all gone and you are ready to go to bed after the works done. You're really tired from the party and the work, you need to take a rest after this long night.

“[y/n]!” Before you could leave the kitchen, one of your friends walks in and calls you. She seems hurried. “Yes?” You answered as she walked toward you quickly. “Sir Don John needs a bowl full of cool water and a cloth, he said it is hot tonight and he needs something to cool him up. Could you bring it to him? His father just called me and there's no one left here...” Your friend look around the kitchen because there's literally no one here so you accept the request. Honestly, if you weren't here, she would find someone else because she is so scared of him. Actually, Don John treats everyone badly. Here, you are known as the one who is scared of nothing. So, they all will ask you to do the thing if the order comes from the man name Don John.

You're walking down the corridor with the bowl full of cool water and the cloth in your hands. The corridor is almost dark except the candle that helps the way brightens. This house would be in silence without the sound of your footsteps.

Your presence stops in front of his bedroom door. You barely hear anything from his bedroom like usual, he would bring many different women from different parties to sleep with. You would hear the sound of moan in happiness through his door when you walk past to get to your room.

Before you can knock on the door, he says loudly through the door. “Come in!” He always win in wars so it doesn't surprise if he can hear someone by only footsteps. Your hand slowly spins the knot before walking in. He's already sitting on the bed without his shirt on, turning his back towards you. You slowly walk to the other side of the bed and place the bowl on the side table. Your feet walk towards the door and ready to leave. “Did I tell you to leave?” You're stunned by his words. “I'm sorry, sir.” That was all you said before turning around to look at him. Even, he is still turning his back towards you. He doesn't say anything further but that's the sign for you to do something, to cool him up by wiping his body with the cool water. So, you grab the bowl, the cloth and walk to him.

You place it down on the other side table. His gaze is on you now, lingering all over your face and your body. You hate this feeling, it is like your body is being burned by his eyes. One of your hand pick the cloth and put it into the bowl, anoint it with water. His eyes follow your hand. “Did you find pleasure in your discourse with Leonard?” He asked firmly as his eyes were still on you. “Leonard who, sir?” You asked him while your eyes are still on the cloth. “The man you danced with.” It makes you stop unintentionally. He looked at you for the whole time? “...indeed, sir. He is kind and gentle.” You could hear his chuckle from his throat but it's so light that you almost barely hear it.

Now, you fully face him. He is sitting in front of you while you gently wipe his body with the cloth. “Why didn't you accept to marry him?” You raise your eyebrows with his words. He would hear a lot that you always reject men's love. But at this moment, all you could think is that; what is he going to play with you this time? “He didn't ask me.” You answered. “Leonard... is a good gentleman, handsome, brilliant, and rich.” You can catch the sarcasm in the replies. “He can make you a noblewoman.” He added while the cloth was down on his abdomen. “That's not my desire, sir.” You answered immediately with the pride of your job. “Then what is your desire!?” He whispered sharply to you, grabbed you and you flinched. As if he wanted to shout but he didn't want to let anyone hear that. He continues, “Don't you want a status? Don't you want money? Don't you want a man!?” He raised his voice. He just insulted you. He thinks that a servant like you wants all of those things. You look at him at the eyes with madness in your heart. “What kind of woman do you think I am?” You talked back to your master. Well, it doesn't matter now if he is your master or not. Right now, he is just a man who insults you. You can't stand him. “I am not a woman who needs all of those precious things!” You raise your voice. Treating you badly is alright but insulting you is enough. You have your own pride and no one will judge that. “You insulted me.” Your voice is sharp and is almost like a whisper while all of your madness can be seen on your face obviously.

“Why do you wish to stay here so badly!? I don't understand! When many noblemen offer you to have a better life!?” He swept the cloth and stand up right in front of you. You stumble back and look into his eyes. He's not satisfied with your words much. “Because it is my will.” You just don't want to explain much since he's the kind of a person who doesn't care and doesn't understand you. “I don't want to see your face! I hate the way your hair looks! The way you walk the way you talk! It all annoys me! Why don't you just leave!?” He shouted at your face while his hand swept your hair and your cloth. His words cut right into your heart. Why? Just being yourself is already annoying to someone? “I insist to stay here until your father tells me to.” You say sharply to him. If he hates it, the will to stay here is stronger. You also have a weird thought comes into your mind that you will stay here, get on his nerves until death can take you both apart since he's the most unreasonable man you have ever met.

He knows that he can't do anything since it must come from his father's order to deport you from here which is impossible. His father is not an unreasonable person who will deport someone arbitrarily or without a strong reason enough. Your eyes are still on him watching him staring at you. You're not scared of him at all. He is just a bastard to you now. You had never thought about him in this way until today because it is too much for you. A nobleman who should know how to talk, when to speak or what shouldn't be spoken but this man knows nothing!

All he can do now is staring at you, having the thoughts that you will never know. All of his hatred has their own reasons. The fact that he doesn't want to see you walking around his house or around him because he can't stand himself that he can't marry you, his father doesn't allow him to. And that makes him mad. Yes, it is true that his father is a good man, always treats his servants like humans equally as him and his family, never look down on them. However, he can't deny that fame and family status are still important things to his father and for his own sons. No matter how much kindness his father gives to his servants, he still can't let him marry a servant like you. His father always find many beautiful noblewomen for him to marry since he is in the nice age to get married but he ends up rejecting all of them because he still can't love anyone except you. He really doesn't want to marry any other woman but you. That's why he wants you to leave so much because it will hurt him less if you are gone and married to someone out of his sight. It won't hurt him that much, that's what he thinks. The man that is standing right in front of you with eyes that are hard to read wants to marry you so badly but he just... can't. That makes him feel sick even more because he always hear that many noblemen ask you to marry and he is afraid that one day you may actually accept the offer. Just like today, he is so afraid that one of his closest friends will ask you to marry because if it's true, he will see you in the man's arms until death. Leonard is close to him and it could make him die if he has to see you with Leonard, his closest friend forever. And the fact that he has to bring many different women into his bedroom to pretend that they are you. He needs you so bad and he can do nothing about it. If he sleeps with you, it will become rumored and you are the only one who is going to be fucked up because his father loves him so much. So, he needs those beautiful women to fulfill the space that he still has left; you. He will find all the women who have the same eyes color, the same hair color or even the same height as you to sleep with. And all of these truth that you will never know, it won't be spoken by his mouth.

Since he keeps staring at you, you decide to leave. Why do you need to wait? Wait for him to insult you more? No. Those are enough. Don John is standing there like an idiot watching you leave with the unspoken truth from his mouth. All he can do is letting you go. He still wishes you would leave this house after he said all those things. Since he can't marry you, maybe it is better to not see you anymore. It could make him forget you better.

He can't marry you. He knows. He has prestige which he doesn't care except his father and if you were not a servant, everything would be easier. He would ask you to be his bride and love you until death takes you apart.

END

© satlun, 2024 : DO NOT PLAGIARISM OR ANY OTHER WAY OF REPHRASING

[echantedtoon]

Nightfall Lovers

You are greeted by a nightly lover who is cloaked in sins.

The votes won so here's a something for Lower Moon Two that deserves more recognition. Might be ooc but screw it! I'll make the content myself. Warnings for mentioning of cannibalism and killing. 

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

@trancylovecraft

@lavenderdrxp

@paintoreos

@jjamsbangtan

Come get y'all's food.

The darkness of night was always dangerous to those whom did not heed the warnings of the monsters whom lurked within the abyss and shadows.

The woman knew that more than anyone else very well. Often finding herself confined within it's hold. Innocence ensnared like a bird within it's cage. Singing it's innocent melodies despite being condemned to be surrounded by cold iron bars. Forever ongoing. Swirling, swirling around 

The sun sank beneath the horizon to make way for his sister the moon to take her rightful place upon her throne of darkness surrounded by her army men of stars and commets. 'Cone out!' She cried out to her dark children that hid from the light. 'My brother and his infernal light is gone. Once more come out to greet your mother and wreck discord upon thine earth. Have your fun dancing in my gentle glow and bask in the darkness that I reign upon as I watch over you.' The monsters woul answer their mother's cries. Dancing. Reigning havoc over the darkness. Bringing entropy to every household they manage to invade. 

A fire warmed up the skin as your lazy eyes watched the dancing flames in the pit. The flickering lights casted dancing shadows the lonely still walls. They frolicked in tune with their own rythme in their own universe. However the warmth of the fire kept your body warm and toasted from the cold outside. No doubt crawling with monsters and demons of the abyss walking forth towards you with every step they took. In tune with every breath you took. But you didn't mind. Infact within the darkness the maiden embraced their outstretched embrace. 

Step. Step. Step.

Closer and closer.

Breaths of sins clawed their way from a maw that swallowed more innocent lives than the mind cared to remember. Smiling at a wicked whom remembered or a sinful coppery taste that it could still taste on the malicious tongue. Running the muscle along fangs sharp and destined to rip flesh from mere bond. However the sins of that life would be forgotten in exchange for the comfort of innocence that the night allowed him to have once every moon.  Footsteps soft yet loud enough to echo through the darkness and approaching fast the house with remaining light. Light that offered warm and comfort but not protection 

F/c eyes opened slightly and turned. A door normally provided comfort and protection was no match for the class that ensnared it and pushed it open allowing the night and shadows to spill inside. The sinful, wicked smile was delighted to see the one of innocent happiness smiling back to her.

"Well now. Hello, Beautiful.~ Do you mind if I come in and warm myself by your fire?"

A giggle all too sincere made the monster's undead heart beat against his own ribcage in anticipation of her answer.

"Come right in, Sir. Heaven knows how cold the night must be for you."

The monster did not hesitate given the permission. Coming inside to receive his reward for the sinful deeds he had done in the form of an embrace of the warmth she gave. The embodiment of darkness was enticing to say the least. Especially with herself entangled within his grip. It felt…

c o l d.

So cold, so frightening. Yet so familiar. The blood ran cold yet so warm upon the strong arms around her. Eyes deeply staring through the soul wriggling, squirming in its hold. Gleaming  teeth beside the eyes in a smile that was promising sin yet a love no one else gave. There for her, the one caught up into the grip of the night. the only thing they could do for them was finish them off — even if it was they who would have to suffer then.

“Hell... It's been so long. You have no idea what you do to me. Making me feel things a sinner like me has no right being happy to have."

Neither spoke for a long moment just staring into each other's eyes before a cold hand reached out to run his knuckles along her chin causing her to shiver before leaning into that hand that switched to caressing the soft warm flesh. A strong arm pulled her forward until they were chest to chest. His sinful freeze and her innocent warm glow. A sturdy arm held her close, the other cracked the back of her head gently as worlds apart connected in the ultimate declaration of affection between two partners.

Lines were blurring. Obsession with love. Madness within clarity. Starvation of touch with longing of burning loneliness. Passion and poison. Breaths were warm despite his cold body. Eyes soft despite their own desire filled look. Grip firm but restrained so much it hurts him how cautious he was being to not harm. Her soft skin burnt him! It burnt, it burnt-

It lit up his soul with unresolved longing he was never able to fulfill like this with anything else in his life.

He pulled her closer deepening the connection for a blissful moment before slowly pulling away just a smidge. Their lips still touching as warm breath gently caressed his face as his dark eyes looked back in narrowing into possessive slits. Words whispered against lips as he spoke.

"You really shouldn't really be letting me come back over and over. It's addicting... Intoxicating to me to not have you right where I need you. My mind clears when you are the only thing it can think about."

A shiver ran over her body so close and it sent a smile against her lips from him. It pleased him so.

"Maybe I like it when you only think about me though. Would you really leave me even if I were to dismiss you?"

Whispered murmurs against lips. Close as lovers could ever be. Arms around each other's bodies like a whirlwind would pull them away. Eyes closing with one last murmur against her lips.

"No. But I sure as hell don't mind if you took my body and soul because you already have my sanity. Now love me. Love me like I'm going to die."

[nurtureoneslife]

Pure Intelligence is Silence.

======================

Can you accept that everything happens by itself?

Well it does.

It sounds strange I know, because you've been taught to believe that unless you make it happen, it's not going to happen. But you've been programmed. You've been programmed since you were born. And you've been programmed from other lives. So all you are now, is a bundle of

programming. That's all you are. A bundle of programs.

You're predictable.

How are you going to act when certain incidents approach before you?

How are you going to react when you see certain things in your life?

Right now you may think you've got everything under control, but if you went home and you found out that your wife or husband ran away with the milkman, you wouldn't be too happy, would you?

Things still control you.

Situations still cause you to react.

All that has to go.

To become free you have to be empty,

no preconceived ideas, no concepts, no judgments, no human knowledge.

You have to be completely empty.

When you're empty you're like space. Space appears as no-thing. Yet space is filled with energy. I recently read an article

where scientists are going to grow food in space. Out of space they're going to grow food. You heard about growing food under water. Well they are predicting that all of the land and all of the water mass will be used up in years to come, then we'll have to grow food in space. I don't mean up in space somewhere. I mean in space right here. Out of nothing.

What you call space is Consciousness. It appears as no-thing to you because of your mind/body phenomena. If you actually were able to comprehend and see what you were immersed in, your body couldn't take it. All around you right now, in different dimension, are all sorts of particles, radiations, electromagnetism and much more. But it doesn't affect you, because your body-mind is made that way. Yet you are not your body or your mind.

You are pure consciousness. You are space. You are emptiness, nirvana.

So what are you going to do about it?

Cry?

Get upset?

Become affected by people's words or actions?

There appears to be two different kinds of realization.

One is when you transcend and you're still aware of yourself.

You're separate from the universal, but you have transcended.

The other one is when you have transcended the body so completely that you have become all-pervading, omnipresent.

You have become the universe.

There is no longer me and mine.

You no longer believe I own this, and you don't. This is mine.

You've become the universe and

thoughts like mine and thine no longer enter your mind.

But the one before that, is you're still aware of yourself as consciousness, but not universal consciousness, personal consciousness.

You can tell if you're getting there by the way you see things. If you're beginning to feel that you're like the screen,

and that everything, everything that you see, including your body, is a superimposition on the screen, and you feel radiantly happy for no reason, you know you've come a long way. But when you feel like one of the images on the

screen, and you do not remember that you are the screen, then you're still part of the world.

It may sound strange but everything, the trees, the sky, the moon, the sun, people, your relatives and your body, your

mind, are all superimpositions on yourself. Just hearing this should make you happy. You are the imperishable self.

There never was a time when you were born, and there never will be a time when you disappear. You are that. You

are that self, without others.

Wake up.

Know yourself for what you really are.

Stop believing that you are a man or a

woman, and you're going through certain experiences. Stop believing you've got to work out your karma and that

everything that happens to you is karmic. That's human thinking.

Stop believing that God punishes and God

rewards. There is no such God.

Wake up.

You're living the mortal dream and you're believing in it. Nothing can ever happen to you. There is no one called you. You don't exist. No thing that you can imagine exists. Realization doesn't exist.

Liberation doesn't exist. It doesn't exist because you've got to think about it. And of course everything you think about is false imagination.

You can only confirm this truth in the silence.

~ The Collected Works of Robert Adams Volume 1

[sephirthoughts]

Hi I know this is a ship like no one has ever thought of but I figure it’s not too strange considering the last prompt was for Vincent and Rufus.

Sephiroth and Rufus with the prompts of: 14, 20, 16, or 19. Please I need food here I’m dying and your writing is delicious 🥲

PREPARE THYSELF, ANONNIE, BECAUSE THINE WISH HATH BEEN GRANTED.

I only did #14 things you said after you kissed me, and #20 things you said that i wasn't meant to hear, because it turned into a whole fucking thing. Actually #16 things you said with no space between us is technically in there too. ANYWAY it is a lil angsty and not a necessarily happy ending, which you tumblr masochists are into as i understand it. Enjoyeee

TAGS: rufus x sephiroth, rufiroth? sephirus?, implied mysophobia, implied autism, two stupid 15 year olds kissing, first kisses, first heartbreak (for one of them sry bby)

rating: teen and up

warnings: canon typical violence, blood, explosions, helicopters

When Rufus stepped out of the building, there was a tall, silver-haired young man, waiting by the door of the armored limousine he was to ride in, in the convoy. Rufus looked him up and down, with a critical eye.

So, this was the famous war hero, Sephiroth. He was taller than all the other security personnel, and obviously in top physical condition, but he was also very young. The same age as Rufus, in fact, which did not inspire confidence in the fifteen-year-old young master of the Shinra dynasty.

Sephiroth bowed, as Rufus approached, and waited respectfully, while he got in the car. Then, to Rufus’ astonished annoyance, the boy climbed into the back of the car, too, and sat down in the seat across from his own.

Rufus scowled. “What the hell are you doing? Bodyguards ride up front, with the driver.”

“I prefer to ride here, young master,” Sephiroth replied smoothly. 

“Well, I prefer you not talk back to me!” Rufus retorted, in indignant disbelief. “This is my personal space. Get out of it.”

The other boy didn’t move a muscle. “As long as I am assigned to your detail, I am responsible for your safety, and have scope to operate at my own discretion. I can do my job more efficiently from here, so I will stay where I am.” 

“My father owns you. That means you have to do what I say.”

Green cat-eyes blinked at him. “I’m a person. You can’t own people.”

Rufus snorted with laughter. “You sure are ignorant. My father owns tens of thousands of people. Including every single one of you SOLDIERs. Meaning you.”

“I’m not ignorant, we’re having a philosophical difference of opinion,” Sephiroth returned calmly. “You say your father owns me, and I say I am employed by him. You’ve been taught that everyone who disagrees with you is stupid or inferior. That might make you feel powerful, in the short term, but whoever taught you to think that way wasn’t doing you any favors. Underestimating an opponent is a serious weakness, and your enemies will exploit it.” 

Rufus’ pale cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment at being so flatly (and effectively) contradicted, by someone he considered to be little more than a servant. “You can’t underestimate your enemies if you don’t have any! I’ll crush them all, before they get a chance to come after me!”

The silver head gave an approving nod. “A valid strategy. But how do you identify potential enemies?”

Rufus crossed his arms. “By looking for conflicting interests, obviously.”

“Exactly,” Sephiroth agreed. “Good intel is the most important element of any battlefield operation.”

“Not the most important,” Rufus argued, so engrossed in the conversation, he wasn’t aware that the convoy had departed, and they were already turning onto the freeway. “The most important things are manpower and tech. Without those, you can’t win a war.”

“Mn. True. But let’s say you have an army of fifty-thousand, and they’re equipped with the latest in cybernetic armor. And I have an army of thirty-thousand, with good but standard armor. Who is going to win?”

“I will. I have manpower and tech on my side.”

“But then, suppose my intelligence sector has done the legwork ahead of time, and I have learned of a fatal flaw in your cybernetic armor, that not only disables it, but causes injury to the wearers, making it much easier for my soldiers to incapacitate yours. Now, every one soldier of mine can easily take out two of yours. Who will win, then?”

“That takes away my armor advantage and makes your army effectively sixty-thousand strong,�� Rufus frowned. “But that’s not fair! You cheated!”

“There is no fairness in war. Any and all means of achieving victory are valid, including deception and treachery. Because if you don’t win—”

“You die.”

“That’s right.”

Rufus thought for a moment. “But, what if my army had the cybernetic armor, and we went around spreading information about its fatal defect, but the information was false and the armor was sound. Then your troops would waste their efforts trying to incapacitate mine, and they’d be caught off-guard and even easier to deal with. Then I’d win.”

The silver-haired boy nodded approvingly again. “Counterintelligence. Excellent. You’re already thinking like a warrior.”

“Since you are a warrior, by trade, may I ask your opinion on something?” Rufus asked, in a more respectful tone than he’d been using, heretofore. “Do you think that…having an escape route from a fortified location is cowardly?”

“Only if you consider strategic withdrawal cowardly, which it isn’t,” Sephiroth answered, without hesitation. “Dying because you refuse to acknowledge you’ve lost ground isn’t honorable or brave, it’s foolish.”

“That’s what I think,” Rufus said, leaning forward eagerly. “All the great generals in history have used strategic withdrawal as a battlefield tactic, and no one calls them cowards.”

Silver eyebrows went up. “You like history?” 

He looked down at his hands and shrugged. “It’s…useful. To know what people did before and whether it worked. Advancement is built on accumulated knowledge.”

“They say that is what sets humanity apart from the animals.”

“Mn,” Rufus nodded. “Look, I…I’m sorry I called you ignorant, before. My father always says that soldiers are nothing but illiterate grunts, only useful as fuel for the war machine. But that’s not the way you are, at all.”

Sephiroth crossed his arms on his broad chest. “I’m a different kind of soldier than he means, but there are plenty of intelligent and honorable men, who are regular troopers. No human being should be thought of as fuel for a machine. They are, after all, the men that make up your ever so vital manpower.”

Rufus opened his mouth to reply, but several things happened at once. There was a faint whistling sound, and the silver-haired boy’s green pupils contracted to slits. Then something hit Rufus like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind out of him. 

At the same moment, the car was struck by something metallic and heavy, and there was an explosion of crackling, blue electricity, that knocked the car’s systems offline, including its shield, and made the hair stand up all over Rufus’ body. With the electronics dead, the driver lost control, and the vehicle spun out and began to roll. 

All this happened in a split second, and Rufus had barely had time to realize the object on top of him was the silver-haired boy, when Sephiroth grabbed him around the waist, and with a blinding burst of momentum, rocketed them out the window, smashing right through the glass, just before the vehicle tumbled onto that side. 

A missile screamed through the air and slammed into the exposed undercarriage of the now unshielded vehicle, flipping it all the way upside-down. Rufus felt the heat on his face, as it exploded in a gigantic ball of flames, with a noise like a sonic boom, that made his ears ring.

Sephiroth landed on his feet, thirty meters away and set Rufus down. The EMP and the missile had come from attack choppers—two of them. The rest of the Shinra convoy had been struck, too, and was in chaos and flames all over the highway. A swarm of green-camo painted, armored vehicles came roaring up, cutting off any escape, from both sides. 

“Get behind me!” Sephiroth barked, as his long, silver blade flashed out.  

Rufus ducked obediently behind him, but he knew there was no point. There was a missile coming right at them. There was no way evade it. It would vaporize them both, whether he was behind his bodyguard or not. 

He clenched his teeth in anger and unwillingness. This was not how he’d imagined his last three seconds on this planet—gunned down like a dog by his father’s enemies, a fifteen-year-old virgin, who had never accomplished anything worthwhile in his short life.

Screw that, if he was going to die, he’d look what killed him in the face. He lifted his head, just in time to see a flash of silver, and the twin vapor trails of the missile, which appeared to have been split into two parts, as they went careening wildly into the concrete pylons behind them. 

What the hell had happened? Was the missile defective? I couldn’t have been what it looked like, because what it looked like, was that his bodyguard had sliced it in half with a sword. Which was not possible.

Apparently, that had been their last missile, having used them up attacking the convoy. The helicopter’s mini-gun engaged, instead, spraying the area with bullets, which the silver-haired boy was…well, he was deflecting them with his sword. 

There was no other way to describe it, because that’s what was happening. The blade was moving faster than sight, sparking where they hit, with a strange, staccato clinking, like hail on a glass window.

The other chopper quit harassing the surviving security personnel and barreled toward them, to join the first in pelting the targets with gunfire. 

Sephiroth growled with frustration. He could deal with them on his own, but not simultaneously, and if he left Rufus unguarded to take out one, the other would cut him down in an instant. There was only one way he got out of this with the President’s son alive, and it would require perfect timing.

That opportune moment occurred, when the first chopper’s minigun overheated, and had to cool for a few seconds. Right then, Sephiroth launched his sword, like a thin, silver javelin, at the other, directly puncturing its windscreen, frightening the pilot into veering away, for long enough to grab Rufus, and make a sprint for the overpass bridge. 

Both choppers recovered and a fusillade of hot lead chased his preternaturally swift steps, but it was too late. Bullets peppered the concrete barrier, throwing sprays of grey dust into the air, as the silver-haired boy leapt over the edge, with the President’s son in his arms. 

Partially obstructed by the overpass bridge, the two plummeted toward the undercity and certain death. They were falling too fast for the gunners to sight them, but it would’ve been perfunctory, anyway. There was no surviving a drop from one of the plates.

Wind battered Rufus in the face and tore at his hair as they approached terminal velocity, and kept falling. They fell for so long, he ran out of breath screaming and had to pause to inhale, before he started again. 

This fucking psycho bodyguard! Now, rather than getting shredded by bullets, he was going to be splattered all over some filthy, undercity junkyard. Perfect. His father probably wouldn’t even send people to collect his body!

He clung tightly to Sephiroth, from sheer reflex, as the ground rushed toward them, bracing himself for impact.

Impact that…never came. Instead, Rufus felt the bizarre sensation of weightlessness, as their fall suddenly slowed, in defiance of logic and reason and science. They look the last couple of meters at a gentle drift, and Sephiroth’s black boots touched lightly down in gravelly dirt. 

He set Rufus on his feet, steadying him as he wobbled. “Young master, are you alright? Are you injured?”

Rufus attempted to stop his voice shaking, but found he couldn’t. “I…I don’t think so. How are we…alive?”

“Well, I evaded the gunships by leaping off—ah, you mean the fall. I have a mastered slow-time materia.”

“O—oh,” was all Rufus could say. The other boy was obviously lying, but he didn’t have the bandwidth to care why. 

Sephiroth looked appropriately contrite. “I apologize for frightening you, young master, but it was the only option I had, at the moment. I would have dealt with the assailants, had it just been me, but protecting you is my primary objective.”

“I understand. You did well. So…where are we?” Rufus asked, looking around dazedly, at the mountains of piled debris, nearly as high as skyscrapers. And far, far above that, the titanic plates that made up the vast overcity of Midgar. He had never seen them from below, before.

“We didn’t drift much, so approximately…right below where we fell. Which puts us close to the Sector 7 slums. Those choppers will be along shortly, to sweep the area for our remains. We’d better get under cover quickly.”

It took less than a minute for Sephiroth to find a partially collapsed section of antediluvian aqueduct pipe, which was twice as tall as he was, and had room enough to park a vehicle, to say nothing of sheltering the two boys. 

Once inside, he cast some kind of gravity spell, and drew a pile of debris over the opening, to conceal it. Just then, the thrum of helicopter rotors became faintly audible in the distance. 

Rufus felt a shiver up his spine, and the irrational urge to crouch down, despite already being under cover. There was enough sunlight filtering in through the piled scrap and rust holes in the old pipe, so that he could see fairly well, which made him feel far too visible.

“What are we going to do if they find us?” he whispered to Sephiroth. 

“They won’t,” Sephiroth answered, at normal speaking volume. “They’re only going to do visual recon, for due diligence. They’re confident that we’re dead.”

Sure enough, the roar of the choppers grew louder and louder, till they could see the sun glinting off their black hulls, directly overhead. But just as Sephiroth said, they passed over the area a few times, and then flew away, their ominous thunder fading gradually into the distance.

“Here, take these.”

Rufus looked down to see that Sephiroth had produced a bottle of water and a dry-ration packet from a storage materia somewhere about his person, and was holding them out to him.

“No, thank you,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not—”

“Young master, I insist you take them,” Sephiroth interrupted firmly. “You may be in shock, and depriving your body of calories and hydration at this time could make you very ill.”

Rufus accepted the things, with a disconsolate huff. He was about to unscrew the lid of the bottle, when Sephiroth took him by the shoulders and looked gravely into his face.

“Listen carefully, because I only have time to say this once. My phone was destroyed by the EMP, as I can imagine yours was, as well. We are far from help, with no means of contacting anyone, for the moment. Do not leave this hiding place, and do not move that debris, no matter what. There are all kinds of monsters out here, in the scrap wastes. If I am not conscious by sunset, take my sidearm and run north, till you get to the dirt road. It’ll take you to the slums, due east of here. Do not tell anyone who you are. Just find someone with a phone and call for help. Whatever you do, you must get out of the waste before nightfall. Understood?”

“Wait, what the hell do you mean, if you’re not conscious?” Rufus demanded. “Are you planning to take a nap?”

It was only then that he observed the other boy’s face was deathly pale. Then he noticed the bullet holes in his black pullover and leather coat. And then the blood pooling at his feet. 

“Sephiroth! You—you’re hurt!” he exclaimed, in horror. “Why didn’t you tell me? What do I do? How do I help?”

“The primary objective is your safety. Do exactly as I’ve said. Do not worry about me, I’ll be…I’ll be fine…”

As he spoke those last words, Sephiroth’s voice dissolved into a slurred murmur. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched over. Rufus grabbed for him to catch him, but the boy was over six feet tall and weighed at least two hundred pounds. Resultingly, smaller, slighter Rufus only wound up getting dragged down on top of him.

He scrambled off, in a panic, not wanting to make the injuries worse, and knelt beside his bodyguard. His own white blazer and sweater were splotched all over with crimson, which would have made his skin crawl at any other time, but he couldn’t bother about uncleanliness, at the moment.  

Frantically, he searched Sephiroth’s pockets for a healing materia, but only found that storage materia. There was nothing in it but more water and rations, and a field kit for dressing minor injuries, which he had no idea how to use, anyway. 

Ok, think! He’d heard somewhere that you put pressure on deep wounds, to stop them bleeding. Forcing himself past his bone-deep aversion to touching bodily fluids, he pressed down on the most central holes, as hard as he could, while blood sponged up through Sephiroth’s black pullover and soaked his hands. But it was in vain. Sephiroth had serious wounds in more places than Rufus had hands to press on them. 

Close to panicking, Rufus tried to check for a pulse, but had no idea how to do that, and couldn’t tell if his failure to find one meant he was incompetent, or that there wasn’t one to be found. Sephiroth’s face was paper-white, now, and his chest had stopped moving. He wasn’t breathing. 

“Sephiroth! Sephiroth! No, no, no!” Rufus sobbed, yanking on the lapels of the other boy’s bullet-torn leather coat, as if he could shake him back to life. “Th—that’s an order, SOLDIER! Do you hear me? You’re not allowed to die! You have to protect me, so you can’t die! Sephiroth!! Please, don’t die! Please…please.”

Weighed down by despair, he curled over, pressing his forehead to Sephiroth’s chest, sobbing like a baby, over the body of the boy his own age, who had saved him, at the cost of his own life. 

Men were killed in action all the time. It was just a collateral cost of warfare. He knew this, and had never felt anything one way or another, about it. But seeing it happen, before his eyes, especially to such an obviously special and worthwhile person, felt completely different. 

It was real. It was personal. It was wrong and horrible and tragic and sickening. And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair! This one belonged to him! Fate had no right to take him away! 

Buoyed up by righteous anger, he forced himself to swallow the bottle of water, like Sephiroth told him, but couldn’t even make himself think about eating the dry ration. He was sick to his stomach and his hands were covered in sticky, drying blood. 

While he was using the rest of his water bottle to try to rinse his hands, he realized that there was less blood on the ground than he'd expected. Only his watery spatters, and the puddle that had been at Sephiroth’s feet when he fell. If he’d stopped bleeding that quickly…then it must be because his heart had stopped. Which meant he was really dead. 

Flatly refusing to accept this, Rufus sat cross-legged beside him, clinging to his gloved hand. Sometimes whispering prayers to the goddess to bring him back, but mostly in silent grief. He never believed the gods had any power to help people, and they were little comfort to him, now.

Only when the sun sank below the unseen horizon, far away, and it began to get really dark, in their tiny hideout, did he move. Heavily and reluctantly, he got up and strapped on Sephiroth’s sidearm, preparing himself to make a run for the dirt road, and hopefully the relative safety of the slums, where there were a lot of people keeping the monsters away.

There were no more excuses to linger. He was as ready as he was going to get, and it was now or never. Rufus knelt down beside his erstwhile bodyguard, to say goodbye. 

“I won’t leave you here,” he said, gently brushing his silver hair out of his face. “I’ll bring people back to get you, as soon as I find some kind of civilization. I—I’m sorry you died for me. I’m so sorry. I know I act like I think I’m royalty, but…it’s all a façade. I’m completely worthless, compared to you. You deserved to live. If I could trade places with you, I would. In a heartbeat.”

In the deep blue of twilight, the boy’s face was painfully beautiful. Overcome with emotion, Rufus leaned down and pressed his lips to Sephiroth’s. A single, soft kiss, to ease the ache of meeting once and parting forever. His tears splashed onto the waxen face. 

“I’ll never forget you, Sephiroth,” he whispered, against his cold, pale lips.

When he drew back, a pair of brilliant-green eyes with catlike slit pupils were looking directly into his. He gave a shout and jumped back, falling flat in the loose rubble, then immediately scrambling back up, to grab hold of the boy’s hand.

“Sephiroth! You’re alive!” His heart was pounding like a war drum, from the sudden jolt, but he couldn’t contain his elation. “You were dead! You bled so much and I couldn’t find your pulse and you weren’t breathing! But you’re alive now! You’re alive!!”

“I wasn’t dead,” Sephiroth said faintly. “I was only…regenerating. I tried to explain.” 

“You sound weak. No, no, let me help you sit up. Good, just lean on me. I’ll get you some water.”

Rufus retrieved another bottle of water from the storage materia and sat with his arm around Sephiroth, watching attentively while he slowly sipped it. 

“I heard your voice, in the dark, calling me back,” Sephiroth said, after he’d drained the contents of the bottle. “I thought I dreamed it. But then I woke up, and you were holding my hand. Talking to me. I was going to tell you that you’re not worthless, and it was both my duty and honor to die for you. But…you kissed me, and I didn’t have a chance.”

Rufus blushed like an apple, but the deep shade of twilight concealed it. “I…uh. I’m sorry. It was just that—” He frowned suddenly and touched his lips. “Did I…bring you back with a kiss? Like a prince in a fairy tale? No, of course not. That’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Sephiroth said, squeezing his hand. “The lifestream runs through all of us. Maybe you gave me some of yours, and it made me stronger. Helped me wake up faster.”

Rufus swallowed hard. “You’re still really weak, though. We could…we could try it again. Just to see if it helps.”

“Right. To…prove the hypothesis,” Sephiroth agreed.

“Hypothesis,” Rufus murmured, wide-eyed and suddenly trembling with nervousness, as they leaned in, so close that he could feel Sephiroth’s warm breath on his cheek. 

Their lips brushed together, timidly at first, then pressing more eagerly. Rufus let his eyes fall closed and his mouth open, tongue sliding forward to caress Sephiroth’s.

His heart pounded in his ears, and his stomach did flips like he was on a roller coaster. His first kiss! Er—well, his first real kiss! It was clumsy and faltering, and neither had any idea what they were doing, but it was also perfect and wonderful and everything he’d ever imagined. He finally understood what all the fuss was about. 

When they drew apart, they were both breathless and flushed with heat, lips wet and kiss-bruised. Rufus still had his arm around Sephiroth’s waist, and Sephiroth had wrapped one of his around Rufus, as well. 

“Sorry if that was weird. I…I never kissed anyone before,” Sephiroth said, shyly lowering his eyes. 

“Neither have I,” Rufus admitted. “It was a little weird, because I always thought my first kiss would be with a girl. But…I’m glad it was you.”

The green cat-eyes came up again, to look into his, slit pupils dilating slowly. “You are?”

Rufus nodded. “Mn. I like you, and you're really handsome. You also saved my life, so we have strong emotional context. Also, you work for my father, and we both know a relationship would never be possible, between us, so there’s no danger of getting too attached, and things becoming messy and complicated later. It can just be what it is.”  

The slit pupils contracted again and Sephiroth seemed to freeze for a millisecond, but he smiled, what appeared to be a soft, placid smile. “Yes. It can just be what it is. We should go, now. The sooner I get you home safe and sound, the better.”

So saying, he hopped up and pulled Rufus to his feet, accepting back his sidearm and materia. When they were ready, he waved his hand, and all the piled up junk covering the entrance to their pipe was blown off, like a pressurized lid. Then they stepped out of their shelter into the labyrinthine canyon of rust and dry-rot and assorted garbage. 

Sephiroth took Rufus by the hand and helped him navigate the small slope, upon which debris was loosely packed and especially treacherous in the dark. Rufus intended to keep holding hands, even after they’d got down, but Sephiroth firmly withdrew his from the other boy’s grasp. 

“No need to be afraid, young master,” he said, in a tone of calm reassurance. “I’m here to protect you. Nothing can harm you, while I’m with you.”

Rufus nodded and followed after him. 

As they picked their way through the debris, his blonde brows knit together, in thought. He should be happy, to have such a strong and valiant protector, who would suffer serious injury for him, and even let Rufus kiss him, all while remaining composed and professional, and taking such care in looking after him.

But…he couldn’t shake the vague feeling that he’d somehow lost something precious. And now that it was gone, it was gone forever.

[justabigoldnerd]

Thank you so much @nicijones for the tag!!!

My Words: test, like, losing, blue

Your Words: fly, fast, groan, fever

Test - From "Which Side of The Wall Really Suffers That Cost?"

Oleg, if the suspicions were substantiated, was the last person Illya wanted to speak to. But had the lack of a pick-up been a test? Was his handler expecting him to call? To point out this obvious error in protocol? Or would calling in the error prove that Illya was aware of their suspicions and therefore guilty of them? Would Oleg expect him to phone a taxi instead? Would he be risking more by not bringing it up? Gaby would know. Her voice of reason would cut through the fog of his fear, anger, even ego, like a hot knife through butter. It would come in the form of a jab or bitter remark, or a snapped curse if he and Solo were the source of the tension. But she would be the source of the obvious answer they were too wrapped up in each other to see. That stabbing pain of longing tore through him again. Illya didn't know it was possible to miss people this much.

Like - From "Honey, I'm Taking No Orders"

With a sigh, Solo tugs up on the fabric of his slacks and crouches in front of him, close enough to feel the heat of his panting breath, sour with terror. “What did they do to you, Kuryakin?” The wolf's breath hitches at the name and his eyes flash with something that smells like recognition, if he had to guess. It is a little difficult to discern anything other than fear. Solo gets the sense that the wolf hasn't been called by his name in this form for a long while. He reaches out slowly with the back of his hand, and Kuryakin snaps his jaws at him. Solo isn't dissuaded, just keeps his hand in reach of the wolf's face. His huge ears, pinned flat against his head, twitch ever so slightly, and the snarling calms to that low growl again. Lips still pulled back, he inches his face closer to Solo hand. Just before the metal basket muzzle makes contact with his fingers, the air-locked door slams open and a dozen boots sprint down the hallway.

Losing - From "Scorching Out Thine Sovereignty"

“I am not letting go until you lay down,” Illya states with a glance back at Rudi, still trying to wriggle free. “If you lose consciousness I will not carry you.” “Who said anything about ‘losing consciousness’?” “The electricity that has been frying your brain for last hour,” Illya nods down at where Solo's right hand still has a vice grip on his arm, “Or are you doing this on purpose?”

Blue - From "Flufftober Day 20: Paw"

Sobered by the shock, Solo helped Illya clean up the raggedy little creatures, and cooked a pan of ground sausage to feed them until they could buy kibble. The gray pup was a perfect gentleman, and the black one demanded that Illya stay at her side while she ate. The white pup, whose blue eyes made the gears in Solo's head start to turn, needed to be spoon-fed. “He's blind,” Solo mused, easing the pup's muzzle towards the spoon. “How can you know?” “He can't find the food.”

No pressure tagging @huggiebird @happybean17 @falling-into-peril @heytheredeann @pippinoftheshire

@bighandsforabigheart @kcscribbler @yallwildinrn @cha-melodius

@the-golden-comet @thattripleabattery @too-young-to-fall-in-love @times-up-alone-tonight @vnyu73

And an Open Tag for anyone else who wants to join!!! 💕💕💕💕

[gaily-daily-musings]

This is the second part of my billford portal era fic which you can read on ao3 here: (x)

Pls keep in mind this is an unfinished rough draft

Ford enters a contest of endurance. He's always held a good exercise regimen. He should fair fine. He could really use the prize money too. Sleeping outdoors holds its appeal for only so long.

He only had the clothes on his back, his leather gloves that had been in his pockets, and a pair of goggles which he'd stolen. he's had to scrap for food. Resorting to stealing more often than not and dumpster diving. He hates the way it makes him feel. He's been getting better at foraging though. But the risk that he may eat something poisonous is always a risk.

At the starting line he comes across a familiar face. Ford's mood instantly sours.

"God not you again."

If there's one person worse than Bill Cipher in the universe it's Rick Sanchez.

"Are you actually competing or are you just gonna steal the prize money?"

"What if I am?" Rick grins.

This man was like if you combined the worst parts of his brother Stan with himself. All ego and no morals.

“Perhaps you should try playing fair for once. Unless you don't think you can beat me?”

Rick's grin turns mean. “Any day of the fucking week pal!”

They gear up and get in line. Ford frowns at Rick's anti grav boots.

“That's not regulation! They are against the rules!”

"Jesus, as much a stickler as always. Newsflash asshole, everyone's cheating!”

Ford looks around. Indeed everyone seemed to have something on their person that they'd slipped into the competition.

“you really outta get laid. It'd loosen that stick up your ass," Rick snorts. "Normally I'd offer but I don't wanna die from nightmares courtesy of your demon boyfriend thanks."

Ford startles. "How...do you know about that??"

Rick shrugs and doesn't answer. How infuriating.

-

They race. A third party wins. Ford and Rick had been too busy fighting each other to notice.

Rick shoots a portal and grabs the prize money from the guys hands before disappearing. Ford rolls his eyes. Typical.

-

“You know you've never asked to use my gun to get home.”

"I don't…" Ford's mind draws a blank. He feels numb in the pads of his fingers.

“Not that I'd let you, mind you, but you've never even asked how to make your own.”

Ford's mind turns over like a pancake. Why hadn't he?

He thinks about returning home. To his empty house in the middle of the woods. Surrounded by anomalies he's already studied. And people who don't understand him.

He thinks about his research which had stagnated. Nothing left for him to do or see.

Does he even want to go back?

Ford's gaze drops to the ground. Was there even a point?

Rick sighs. "Fucking shoot me if I ever get that deep in self denial." he throws up his middle finger and walks away. “Till next time fucker!”

-

After several years Ford can admit to himself a few things.

It is out of some morbid sort of pleasure when Ford finds out that others seem to cower at the mere mention of Bill's name. To know that Ford alone openly defied this powerful being and actually got away with it was a little bit intoxicating. Ego boosting. He'd successfully stopped the portal from opening and pissed off Bill Cipher and then lived to tell the tale.

Back then, in the before, Ford had felt like he could do anything. Be anything. The world--the universe--was at his fingertips. And now...well he still feels like that. Not in the same way, but similar. He feels important in his mission to stop Bill once and for all. He feels like he's the only one smart enough and resourceful enough to do it.

Perhaps that's why they've started talking. Him and Bill. Why Ford even allows it. Because he's unconsciously separated himself from the rest of the galaxy just like he had with humanity on earth. Plus a wise man once said to know thine enemy.”

They argue a lot. But they keep coming back to one another. Year after year neither one loosens their grip on the other.

It's always in the dreamscape. Never in person. They've made a place for themselves there.

They talk about sacrifice. Ford learns that people have sacrificed to Bill before. Offered him their blood. While Bill found blood useless, he found it fun to play with the insides. He thought it was fascinating how fleshy species worked. He would examine the heart, the liver, and pull out the lower intestine. And if they didn't offer willingly, Bill took one anyway. He knows intimately how over 4,878 different species of biology worked. A sacrifice was a chance to learn. And perhaps to have a new toy with permission to rip open.

Ford finds it all horrible. But also unfortunately fascinating. The people he was currently staying with were a subsection Cipher cult. They'd initially captured him, but now they treated Ford with respect. He pretended to be a follower by showing off his tattoo. He hated showing it off let alone acknowledging it, but this was an exception. He'd rather not be killed and eaten thanks.

Across the dimensions, those who swore loyalty to Bill Cipher were either dangerous, insane, or both. Most criminals who associated with him tended to do so sparingly. But the most loyal Bill referred to were his henchmaniacs. they lived with him in the Nightmare Realm. None ever ventured there. These cult people, however, weren't Henchmaniacs. They lived outside Bill's realm.

The rituals are all nonsense as far as he could tell. Ford couldn't believe how ridiculous it was. He wonders if Bill ever crashed these things like a frat boy at a house party. Hopefully not.

Had Ford ever been this cringey in his worship? He winces. He gets why fiddleford had been so fed up now.

They give him a room and a bed. A real bed. It felt luxurious. he knows he can't stay for long or else Bill would come and find him. But he still drags his feet about leaving. the way these people looked at him, like he was important, was intoxicating. No wonder Bill favored this tribe.

Still the sacrifices were wrong. Bill didn't need the blood! Why make them keep doing it?

They get into an argument about morality.

"I don't understand why you need to take over the universe! Why can't you find a new peaceful place to live without hurting anyone?"

"Of course you don't understand you're just a human!"

"Why can't you be happy with what you have?"

"BECAUSE I HAVE NOTHING!" Bill's voice booms like a thunderclap. Ford covers his ears. "You have to scrap and lie and cheat for everything in this world Sixer! People don't just hand you what you want on a silver platter!"

Bill is heaving.

Ford lets his hands fall. His words echo. No, people don't just give you what you want. But Bill did. He offered Ford everything. Everything he ever wanted. His dreams and hopes.

Ford is the only one Bill has ever been physically close to. This knowledge has always sat at the top of his heart. He hoarded it like a secret. It filled him with a sense of importance that he probably shouldn't feel anymore.

And he wonders…

Did Bill share that same light hope? Did he possess a secret joy that Ford was his and his alone?

It still amazed him even now, that this wild untamed creature would come down from the heaven's long enough to let Ford call him “His.”

Instinctively, Ford touches his upper left arm. The tattoo was always covered now. All of his body was. Once upon a time Ford was proud of his choice of ink. Bill wasn't even aware of it. He'd gotten it after the “flirty gal” disaster. Bill had thought that one was hilarious. As angry as Ford had been over that particular incident, it had given Ford the idea to get one that actually meant something.

He'd always meant to tell Bill. But somehow he felt too embarrassed to say anything when the time came. Like it would be taken as some declaration of love (even though it practically had been.) He supposed he was afraid that Bill wouldn't understand the significance of it. That he'd treat it like any other trinket that was made in his name.

"Sure that's great Sixer. But have you seen the pyramids? Best tribute anyone ever made me!"

He didn't want this sacred thing to be undermined. So he said nothing.

Some time after he'd fallen through the portal he'd only looked at it in anger and shame. Wanting to get rid of it but unsure how or who to ask. It would take money which he did not have. And he needed to save every penny for essentials.

Now whenever he looks at it, it feels less like a cheesy couples tattoo and more like a tramp stamp. It is embarrassingly over the top. And the more Ford stares at it the more his cheeks inflame. He'd known on some level what he was doing when he got it. And anyone else who saw it would understand too. This side of the portal he would just as likely be ridiculed for being such an easy target or thrown to the curb in distrust.

“You could have had me.” He finally says.

It's mortifying enough that that alone makes him wake up.

-

It is dark in the cell. They called it an oubliette. Ford's lock picking set had been taken along with everything else. What's so ironic is that he's starting to feel closer to his brother now, millions of miles across space and time, than he has in years.

It's pitch black in here. Its cold. Ford has never been scared of the dark. Has never shied away. Rather he wondered the sorts of things he would find. The secrets he could uncover.

There had been a moment in the cave, after he finished the summoning incantation, that his light had gone out. Nothing happened. But he didn't feel quite as disappointed as he thought he would. The darkness felt almost comforting.

Then the eyes opened and kept opening. Hundreds it seemed. All staring at him. Watching and waiting. He didn't feel unnerved or apprehensive. He felt rather special. That these eyes would turn towards him.

Ford sighs. He could call him. Call Bill for help. He has avoided doing so for 10 years though and has never once admitted defeat. But he's been here for months already. His frail body feels ready to snap. He calls him.

Bill appears in his mind. They're in a library. In truth Ford can conjure any background he wishes. It's his dream after all. But he finds comfort in familiarity. And he has always been most comfortable in a library. Sweet grass under his feet and stars above his head.

Bill floats near him but keeps his distance. He's as weary of Ford as Ford is of him. It could be a trap.

“I need you to get one of the guards to give me a set of keys.”

Bill is not so ready to help. Why should he? What does he get out of it? He's known Ford was here for a while. But he thought a punishment was in order for his human. Served him right for continuously defying him.

“I'm not helping you with the portal.” Ford growls. “And I'm not joining you! Other than that, name your price!”

Bill's eye squints like he's smiling. It was cute the way Ford tried. As if anyone could intimidate Bill Cipher.

Bill makes a show of thinking about it, humming loudly.

“Let me see you.”

It had been quite some time since last they did something intimate. A long time.

“Seriously?”

“You call my name a lot in your sleep. Could be taken the wrong way Fordsy.”

Ford blushes angrily.

Bill stretches into a human form. “I think you rather liked it last time.” He winks.

Ford undresses. He doesn't look at Cipher while he does. He pretends his body isn't responding to the attention. Pretends he doesn't want this. That he doesn't ache for it.

Bill holds him down, having gone eerily quiet. The silence unnerved Ford. Bill was never quiet.

Then a claw touches his back. Tracing up and down. It hits Ford like a comet to the face. The tattoo.

Bill had known. He'd known since that first time in his dream where Ford had felt fuzzy and unreal and Bill laid him out like a feast.

Why hadn't he said anything? No, Ford knows why. Anything would have been taken as a taunt. He would have immediately rectified the mistake had Bill pointed it out.

Ford made up all kinds of excuses. But at the end of the day, he could have gotten rid of the tattoo if he'd really wanted to. The truth was that it brought him a sense of purpose. Bill Cipher was out there and Ford would stop him one day. It was a reminder. They were still held together by destiny.

Something presses against him, hot and burning. Bill's hum thrums throughout him.

"I knew you were still mine." Bill's voice is pleased. The note of possessiveness makes Ford's toes curl.

-

After breaking out of prison Ford takes up with a group of scavengers. He's only been with them for a few weeks before Bill crashes it. as they're out foraging an abandoned spacecraft for parts, Bill takes over someone's body. Ford is a little ways away from the others so they don't notice.

“Bill! What are you doing?! Stop this!”

"Hey Fordsy look how wide I can open my mouth!" he unhinges the jaw.

Ford can practically see the creature's intestines. He grimaces.

Whenever he possesses someone, the gold in his eyes always seems to shine through. Like rays of the sun peeking through the curtains, the physical body unable to contain all of his magnificence.

Ford would be more angry about this, and he is, but he can't risk revealing Bill to the rest of the group. No one ever took kindly to finding out Ford used to be a follower. And no doubt Bill would tell them.

"They're planning on screwing you over by the way."

"What?"

"You're the newbie. They get someone to do all the hard work and then ditch them the first chance they get."

Bill could just be lying. Trying to drive a wedge between him and the rest of the crew. But it wasn't as if they were all buddy buddy. And Ford had a strict policy he adhered to: trust no one.

Bill wanders over to the rest of the group despite Ford's protests. Bill starts trash talking the crew, making everyone antsy and mad.

Ford hisses at Bill to stop but it only eggs him on.

“What's gotten into you?” One growls at Bill.

“Nothing! Just realized I hate all of you! You're lazy and stupid and ugly!”

Bill expects the punch. He doesn't duck. The body is flung backwards, hitting the ground hard. Bill starts to laugh.

Ford, feeling guilty for the body Bill was possessing, steps in to help defend him. As if by Bill's design, they start fighting the rest of the crew together. None of them have the intelligence to realize their friend is possessed nor the patience to soften their blows.

It gets to the point where Ford knows they have to retreat. They fall back to the ship. Bill jumps into the cockpit and starts the engine.

“What are you doing?!”

“Stealing the ship! What's it look like?”

Ford looks back at the rest of the crew banging on the doors demanding to be let in. On the one hand, Ford didn't like the idea of just stealing from them. On the other, none of them were particularly good people and were self proclaimed thieves themselves.

He collapses in the passenger seat as Bill hits the accelerator. He feels a hysterical bubble of laughter push up his throat. Bill joins in and soon they're both laughing. Ford is bruised and bloodied and his head is killing him.

Bill is insane. Ford has always known that. And yet even back then he'd always loved that spark.

"You know," Ford says slowly, "this kind of suits you."

And he means the whole not terrorizing entire populations and tearing apart the universe kind of thing. Just them and their inside jokes. Brilliant minds sharing space.

"Of course I look good!" Bill says with a swagger. "I can pull off any meat sack I wear!"

That had been so far past the actual point Ford was trying to make, but his lips pull up unbidden try as he might to fight it. And then he's smiling openly at Bill Cipher. Laughing at his horrid humor. Bill grins back, like making Ford chuckle is the highlight of his day. He preens at the attention. At Ford's attention. And it just makes Ford want to look at him more. To give Bill whatever he wanted. It's a dangerous feeling.

He should probably tell Bill to get out the body. He feels kind of bad for hijacking the ship as it is. The least he could do is make sure this person wasn't stranded on some strange planet.

But Bill crosses his arms and huffs. "Don't wanna."

Ford sighs. This was going to be a long ride.

-

"No one wants to hold a rose with too many thorns."

The fortune teller's words haunt him. Aside from Stanley and Fiddleford, Stanford had never been close to anyone. It was pathetic. A whopping number of two people in the entire universe. Something had to be wrong with him.

Family was supposed to like you, so did Stanely even count? And Fiddleford had a golden heart. He got along with literally everyone in college. Even the fraternity brothers. They often invited him to socials. Though Fiddleford would turn them down to study with Stanford.

It's moments like these when Ford looks back and wonders whether Fiddleford had done so because he actually wanted to. Or if he stayed holed up in their room to keep Ford company because he felt sorry for him. Because he pitied him.

It was true that Ford had never had the best track record with people. Most of the things he said went over their head. And they never seemed to get his humor either.

Ford threw himself into his books and learned to be content with that. Knowledge was so much more satisfying in the long run. You could always count on numbers and math. But people were unpredictable. People were mean. They were rude and loud and they made fun of his hands.

Stanford has always assumed that it was other people that was the problem. But as he remembers the fortune teller's words at the fair, he thinks back on all his interactions. Was he the problem? Was Ford the one who looked down on others? did he roll his eyes when someone said they were a liberal arts major? Was he the one that used obscure references to historic scientists and scoffed when someone didn't get it?

Ford covers his face and rubs at his eyes. He feels like an ass.

The thing is, Ford doesn't know how to be around people. And for the most part they don't know how to be around him either. Should he say this? Should he say that? Should he point out the weather?

It had been so easy with Bill. Of course, a lot of that was because Bill was just pretending, but even now it was eerily easy to fall back into that rhythm. He feels himself losing sight of his mission. Of what matters.

-

Reverse Falls dimension

Traveling across dimensions, Ford comes across a place that is all backwards.

Bill, or rather Will, has been captured and tortured for years. The other Ford owns the demon and lets the kids play with him for their act in some kind of tent of telepathy.

It's horrifying. Seeing how callous he was capable of being.

The other Ford is friendly with him at first. Gladly inviting him in to sit and talk with him. Ford asks him how to do it. How can he defeat Bill?

The other him tells him that he has to make a weapon. Binding Bill in the same way that he did with Will won't work. Will was an idiot. Bill won't be tricked as easily. the other ford tells him all the materials and how to get them. Ford thanks him.

Before leaving the other him invites him to stay for a show.

“I insist.”

So Ford stays.

It's awful. It's degrading. It's humiliating. He tries to sneak out in the middle of it and just go. He makes it outside. As he rounds the tent to the back, he overhears other Ford talking with his brother Stan. They were arguing.

Apparently he thought this little sideshow was smalltime. They shouldn't be using Will to make money. He was a powerful demon. They should be using him for to take over government and rule the world for example. Stanley was so small minded. Keeping to this backwater town and making chump change with his little Tent of Telepathy act.

He's spotted. Ford freezes.

“Skipping out are we?” other ford says.

“No i…i mean i, um, was just looking for the bathroom.”

Stan glares at him. “Didn't like the show? I put. A lot of work into that you know. Least you could do is watch the whole performance.”

Ford starts backing up. They follow.

“Well it's–I mean it's just a little much for me i think. I'm not sure I was prepared to watch children saw a demon in half.”

"What?” Other Ford asks. “It's not like he has feelings."

The fact that those words are said from a face matching his own horrifies him. Ford has thought that same exact thing before. That Bill was callous and cruel and it was all he ever was and would be. That he did not care for others.

Ford remembers the crumpled form of Will on that stage. He was more or less the same being as Bill. Same powers, same form, same voice. Something had happened differently in this Cipher's past. Or perhaps not differently at all. Perhaps this version had decided to direct his rage inwards instead of out. He blamed himself instead of the universe for his troubles. For whatever it was that he did, the sadness was unbearable.

"He can feel just as much as you or me." Ford says lowly, vehemence rising in his voice. "Just because he looks different doesn't mean he can't feel anything! He has hopes and dreams and regrets just as much as you or I!"

Stanford looks at his double’s face and glares back. His face, his voice, his body, they were all ugly and twisted. "The only monster here is you!"

You.

Me.

Us.

The double pulls back. Blinks. Then breaks into a chilling laugh.

Chase scene

Ford runs. He'd no intention of getting captured here. No telling what these people would do to him.

He doubles back into the tent. Using the element of surprise, he frees Will. he takes the poor thing into his arms and races like a bat outta hell. He runs into the woods praying that they were shaped the same as his own back home. He knew where several good hiding spots were.

He retreats to a cave to catch his breath. Will trembles in his arms.

“It's alright. You're safe now. They can't hurt you anymore. You can come back with me! I can take you!”

The broken triangle shakes, similar to the motion of shaking one's head.

“I can't. My place is here.”

“It doesn't have to be!”

Will looks at him with a sad smile. “I always thought it had it bad, but it looks like I lucked out with my dimension after all."

Ford looks down at him incredulously. "How?? I never did anything like this to my Bill!" He ignores how 'my bill' feels on his tongue.

"It's hard to love you Stanford Pines." He cups Ford's chin and strokes his cheek. "I'd rather know exactly where I stand than be pulled back and forth."

-

When Ford travels back, it takes a moment to adjust.

Bill visits in his dreams as usual. But it's different now. Whereas Will did not hide his pain, choosing to embrace it, Bill hid his under a thick veil of anger and humor. Hating the universe and all therein. Raging and raging because he could. Because it still hurt and it would never stop.

"Heya Fordsy!" Bill says cheerfully.

Ford smiles back. "Hey Bill."

Bill pauses. He must sense something for his single eye squints.

Ford walks closer. He hasn't willingly reached out to him for over two decades. He very much wants to again suddenly. Despite the circumstances, it had felt nice holding Will in his arms.

"You ever think about wearing a tie? Instead of a bowtie?"

Bill reaches up to his little bowtie. "Of course not! Bowties are way more cool!"

Ford chuckles. "You should try it. Just to see."

Bill rolls his eye. He snaps his fingers and there it is. A little black tie. Ford slowly reaches out so as to startle Bill. He touches it. Then he tugs, pulling it towards him. Pulling Bill towards his face.

"See? Looks good on you."

Bill flushes pink.

-

In his quest across the universe he comes across a great being. He asks it one question.

“How can he defeat Bill?”

The axolotl does not answer. That is not the real question he wants to ask, it says. That is not the one in his heart.

But Ford doesn't know what's in his heart anymore. He walks away empty handed.

-

With every dimension he goes to, he finds himself returning to one being. All paths lead back to Bill. His thoughts twisting and turning until they were once again consumed by little yellow triangles.

-

Weirdmageddon

Reunion with his brother. Finding a kindred spirit in Dipper. Knowing that he must follow through with his mission to protect earth.

-

Bill turns the golden statue over. He literally had Ford in the palm of his hand. The world was finally at his feet and yet he was sitting inside. Staring at nothing. This should be his crowning achievement. Everyone was out there partying and having a great time destroying the local buildings and wildlife.

Bill places Ford down. He'd always imagined this moment. A glorifying triumph, a party lasting forever. No limits. No restraints. Finally he would be free. No one to hold him back or hold him down. The freaks, the weirdos, the outcasts, they would make the rules from now on. Let society crumble and be rebuilt.

When had he started to imagine it with Ford by his side?

Ford could have done so well. His human was an outcast too. Attracted to the unknown and the weird. They could have ruled side by side. Bill doesn't offer immortality to just anyone. He didn't do it on a whim. He genuinely wanted to give Ford the world. He's surprised by how much it hurt when Ford turned him down. It wasn't like he didn't expect it. Ford was too pure. For all his dark thoughts and questionable desires, Ford remained a good person despite everything. Despite the years Ford had remained firmly attached to his morals.

-

Piano scene

Tries to seduce him. Bill doesn't know what he's doing. Hadn't known the first time either, it just happened. Now that he's actually trying he feels unsure what to do. what are the right words he can say to convince Ford to join him? Are there any right words that even exist?

-

If Bill could not be the center of Ford's affection, he would be the center of his ire. It didn't matter so long as he held the man's full attention. He wanted to be so utterly wrapped up in Ford's mind he didn't want anything else leaking through.

"You worshiped me!"

Bill spats like an ex lover on a soap opera. He still doesn't understand where it was they'd gone wrong. hasn't Bill shown Ford for years that he's serious? Has he not chased him and helped him and sat and talked? He's been right here for 30 years.

Ford growls back at him, ever defiant. "There's plenty of other gullible people out there! Go bother them!"

"They're not you!"

The words die in his throat. They're not Ford. They're not him.

Bill doesn't want followers. He doesn't even want henchmaniacs. He wants Sixer. His smart, naive, annoying little human. As stubborn as an immovable rock.

-

Resisting him is just as hard as Ford knew it would be. but it's made easier with all the atrocities Bill was currently committing.

Bill comes at him with sweet words and promises. Then when that doesn't work, he comes with rage and threats.

Whenever Bill feels something, he feels it fully and without shame. When he is angry he is fire. When he is happy he is an explosion. And when he loves, it is all consuming. He doesn't hide it away.

Ford knows the truth. Of course he does.

Bill loves him. He loves him.

It steals Ford's breath and aches in his chest. He feels like he's being pulled apart and put back together in equal notions.

-

Erasing Stan's mind

In one fell swoop Ford loses both his brother and Bill. It cracks his heart in half.

-

Therapist

The axolotl has Bill making amends to people he's wronged. It's a very, very long list. He has to write a personalized letter to all of them.

Stan is fishing when a giant axolotl bursts out of the water and floats above the boat. He falls over and hits the deck. Ford runs up from downstairs. He stares at the great cosmic Axolotl.

“It's you.” He breathes.

The axolotl explains that Bill is currently his patient at the theraprism. Ford's heart twists. Bill is alive?

It then says that Bill has written an apology letter.

“It's your choice to read it or not.”

It leaves as swiftly as it came. Stan frowns at the note. Ford crumples it up and puts it in his pocket.

“I'll throw it away later.” He tells his brother.

Stan lifts a suspicious brow. “Why not do it now?”

“You shouldn't litter in the middle of the ocean, Stanley.”

-

“Bill? Stanford Pines has passed away.”

He continues drawing. That's all he did nowadays.

“Are you alright?”

“Time is an illusion.”

Ford was always both dead and not dead.

“We can talk about it later if you want. I'll leave you alone to process.”

There is nothing to process. He can go back and see him at any time. Just as soon as he got out of here anyway.

Bill's crayons break in his hands. He's been holding them too tightly.

-

Bill sits in his cell with his stupid scrapbook looking at his memories.

Curse them all.

Curse them.

Curse him.

-

“Bill?” His jailer calls. “You have a visitor.”

Bill ignores them.

“They said their name is Stanford Pines?”

Bill freezes.

He walks–as he can't float anymore–to the visiting section and scrambles up the chair to sit. Ford stares at him. His hands are clasped before him on the table. They're beautiful.

“Hey Sixer.”

“Hey Bill.”

[lilbittymonster]

Day 12: Quarry

Read on AO3

The herd of steinbock grazed peacefully in the meadow below, unaware of the young girl above. She had been tracking them for the better part of the morning, the sun sliding over the highlands as she followed their muddied footsteps ever higher. Now, she was hidden behind a rock fall several yalms above, and was watching the movements of the herd for any signs of weakness or slow-footed members.

There. An older buck, limping on a hind leg. Slowly, carefully, so as to make as little sound as she could, she nocked an arrow and took aim. The bowstring thrummed in her ear as she released, and the arrow struck her target, but not true enough. The steinbock reared and screamed in pain, and the rest of the herd followed suit. Cursing under her breath as they ran once again, the girl skittered down the hillside to follow after them.

There was a trail of bright red blood mixed into the churned mud. She blew a stray lock of hair from her face as she tried to calculate just how far the buck would be able to get before it bled out, assuming that no other predator got to it first, when overhead a large shadow blocked out the sun. It was there and gone again in an instant, resolving itself into the shape of a white dragon soaring above.

The thought of her quarry all but vanished in her excitement at seeing a dragon. They were nowhere near one of the sky cities, and she didn’t see a rider on its back, so it must be on its own hunting foray. She picked up her pace, eager to try and get at least one kill before the day was out and the dragon devoured the whole herd.

It disappeared over the horizon line as she ran. It was difficult to tell but it might have been going in the same direction as her target. There was no way the entire herd wasn’t visible from the air. Hoping against hope that there would be no charred mass of burned hide and meat waiting at the end of the trail, the girl pressed on with the sun beating down from its zenith.

She crested a ridge in the trail, and out in the middle of a spread of churned earth was the dragon. In its claws was a steinbock, and as she drew nearer she could see the arrow still stuck out at an awkward angle from its side. It was much smaller with its wings folded. There was no way to tell how old it was. She paused, unsure if perhaps she had strayed into the children of the First’s territory on accident in her haste.

“It is dangerous for one so young to be hunting alone, daughter of the land,” said the dragon. “Wherefore dost thou stray so far from thine elders?”

“Someone has to put food on the table,” the girl said. “Mother is sick and Father twisted his leg.” She looked to the dead steinbock still locked in ivory talons and back up to the dragon. “Have…..I hunted in the wrong part of the mountains by mistake?”

It shook its head. “Nay, young one, these lands are for all to partake of. Though I must ask; how didst thou intend to bring your prize to your people alone?”

“Er-I, uhh….” She hadn’t actually thought about that part until now.

The dragon chuckled, a low sound like distant thunder.

“Come. ‘Twould be no great burden to carry both thee and thy prey.”

The girls’ eyes widened as she processed the words and their implication.

“I get to ride on your back? Like a real dragoon?!”

The dragon nodded, crouching low to the ground as it gathered the legs of the steinbock in its claws.

The girl carefully scrambled up the scaly hide, careful not to step too hard on any joints, and settled best she could between the spines along its back. She was going to remember this day for the rest of her life.

[deadpool-wade-wilson]

Sir Logan - once known as the Medieval Knight Wolverine - now watches the tom-cat yet to be named, now dry and washed, checked by the vet in case of fleas of FIV - which cats could get - busy greeting Marry Puppins, the Deadpool Dog who's also curious about the newcomer as sits on the sofa in his tank-top and jeans.

He can hear Deadpool humming in the kitchen finishing off Breakfast, some type of music coming from a device Al - the Old Blind Lady - had described as a 'radio' while he flicks his gaze, placing his chin in his hand resting his elbow on the back of the sofa, to Deadpool seeing how relaxed he looks.

How Deadpool hums along with the tune, does a wee sway his hips all wearing a Unicorn pyjama onsie which to Sir Logan's eyes actually suits Deadpool that mutters low under his breath. "Cute..."

A smitten look appearing on his features.

*plates the food and brings it over to him*

I declare thine Breaky served!

I’m never getting tired of this knight jokes :3

[beansterpie]

24, 29, 31, 33

For Griffguts! :)

Hehe thank you for the ask!

GriffGuts <3

24.) How do their personalities affect their relationship? Do their characteristics compliment each other, or clash often?

I think their personalities are very complimentary! As well as their wants and desires and the way they see each other, though with the caveat that this only works once they like, learn to communicate lmfao. We've seen what happens when they don't (screams from the eclipse in the background). But once they understand that they care for and respect one another (crazy concept 🙄) I think they'd have an easier time of telling each other how they feel, and also solving problems between them.

It wouldn't be perfect because they're both fucked up dudes, but Guts is blunt and often says what he thinks, and Griffith really likes that about him. And once Guts gets over the whole "Griffith is Untouchable™" thing, I think he'd be more comfortable prodding him when he's clearly brooding over something.

29.) Describe their nighttime routine.

Hmmmm depends on their living situation I guess! If this is still when Griffith and Guts are living in the castle/barracks, then they'd have to be a lot more careful about like, sleeping in the same bed. I imagine eventually Griffith would be given his own land by the king, and Guts would have his own house nearby (except they basically just live together anyway lol).

But if we're talking general nightime routines, Guts would get out of his day clothes and put on whatever he sleeps in (probably undergarments and no shirt lol) and splashes some water in his face, and that'd be about it lol. Griffith would have a whole routine with his hair-- he wouldn't bathe every day just because that requires a lot of labor, but he'd comb his hair and apply whever haircare concoction he's come up with through trial and error, and then he'd probably braid it for sleep. I like to think Guts likes helping out with that bit lol.

He'd also wash his face and then apply some sort of oil, then offer some for Guts like he does every night. Whether or not Guts accepts depends entirely on his mood (and how dry it is that night lol), though Griffith doesn't push either way. Sometimes Griffith might stay up a little later to do some paperwork or read, sometimes he might read to Guts (Guts can read at this point but still prefers being read to lol, I doubt he'd ever become a big reader on his own), and then they cuddle up and go to sleep <3

31.) Do they often go out on dates? What are these like?

I think they'd go on outings together, and they might do spontaneous romantic gestures for one another, but I don't think they'd really like, frame it as Romantic Dates™ in a modern sense. Like they don't really go out for picnics-- they might go out riding just the two of them for a hunt, or to spar, or some other physical activity that they enjoy (didn't intend to imply anything there lol, but that too 😏), and then they'd eat the food they brought along because of course they'd get hungry. And if during all that they steal kisses or Guts picks some flowers for Griffith or whatever, then so be it.

33.) How do they flirt? Who’s the worse flirt?

I think they'd be incredibly obvious flirters, even if they don't think they're being obvious lol. If they're in public it'd all have to be implicit of course, and I think Griffith would be the one who verbally flirts more. I think Guts would like, send him looks™ and then get back at him by grabbing his ass when no one's looking or something lmfao.

--------

Ty for the ask! It's always fun thining about them <3

[quillpaw]

okay listen it's five in the morning and i should be asleep but the manic energy got me so instead i made this diagram and i'm now going to explain it to you. don't bother getting up, i've locked the doors.

okay so like an ogre, there are layers of engaging with a work, and i think a lot of disagreement in fandom comes from fundamentally misunderstanding which layer of engagement someone else is working in. so let's break it down. under the cut because fuck dude this got long.

LAYER 1: CANON. this is the core layer. this is the work itself. this is everything contained within the book, the show, the movie, the podcast, the interpretive dance, whatever. the thing itself and only the thing. if it is shown on screen, written in the text, heard with thine own ears, it is canon. i hope you guys are staying with me so far.

LAYER 2: EXTENDED CANON. this layer contains other media that is explicitly connected to the canon work. this is the cinematic universe, the spin-off comics, the tie-in novels, what have you. any work that is not the original canon thing but is clearly, explicitly connected to the canon thing is here, okay? so if we're talking about the avengers, then this is the rest of the mcu. depending on what is being discussed, this might also include sequels and prequels. if you're talking about star wars as a franchise, this layer is legends, but if you're talking about star wars: a new hope, then this layer is star wars: the empire strikes back. general consensus is that extended canon is still canon, but sometimes it sucks real hard and it isn't. i know that makes this a little fuzzier but just try to remember that this is just the shallows as we wade out beyond the original work.

LAYER 3: WORD OF GOD. here's where the arguments start. (unless layer 2 is already where the arguments start, which, god help you.) word of god is anything stated outside the original work by the work's creators or people who can otherwise speak authoritatively on the work. this can range from statements by the author about intent, to interviews with actors about their mindset while playing a character, to supplemental material containing details about a character or setting not specified elsewhere (unless that supplemental material is considered extended canon, which people can and do and will argue about). by the strictest technical definition, word of god is NOT canon, BUT it is commonly folded into interpretation of the canon work with the knowledge that the creators want or expect it to be canon. unless it sucks ass and everyone agrees the author doesn't know what the fuck they're talking about, but that's something else to argue about.

LAYER 4: FANON. ooookay. i could probably divide this layer into like four different layers but i don't wanna so this is the murky, terrifying deep end of the canon spectrum. fanon is interpretations of the original work that incorporates elements not present in the original canon but does not openly contradict it. this ranges from in-universe explanations for plot holes to fan theories about future events to guesses at what a character's favorite food is based on a photo of their actor snacking in costume. fanon is not canon. fanon can be great, fanon can be more coherent and thoughtful than canon (hello danny phantom enjoyers) but it is NOT canon. the interpretations that exist here do not exist within the original work, and that's okay. fanon can be meaningful and inspiring and a wonderful addition to how you engage with a creative work, but none of that makes it canon, and that's okay. fanon can also be absolute reeking dogshit and that is also okay because- if you guessed this already you get a cookie- it's not canon.

okay thank you for coming to my deranged ted talk, my assistant has unbarricaded the doors for you have a good day.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Why Me?

To the choirmaster. A Maskil of the Sons of Korah.

1 We have heard with our ears, O God, our fathers have told us, what work thou didst in their days in the times of old. 2 How thou didst drive out the Gentiles with thy hand and plant them in their place; how thou didst afflict the peoples and cast them out. 3 For they did not get the land in inheritance by their own sword, neither did their own arm save them, but thy right hand and thine arm, and the light of thy countenance because thy delight was in them. 4 Thou art my King, O God; command saving health unto Jacob. 5 Through thee will we push down our enemies; through thy name will we tread under those that rise up against us. 6 For I will not trust in my bow, neither shall my sword save me. 7 But thou hast saved us from our enemies and hast put to shame those that hated us. 8 In God we boast all the day long and praise thy name for ever. Selah. 9 But thou hast cast us off and put us to shame and doth not go forth with our armies. 10 Thou makest us to turn back from the enemy, and we are spoiled by those who hate us. 11 Thou hast given us over like sheep appointed for food and hast scattered us among the Gentiles. 12 Thou hast sold thy people for nothing and dost not increase thy wealth by their price. 13 Thou makest us a reproach to our neighbours, a scorn and a derision to those that are round about us. 14 Thou makest us a byword among the Gentiles, a shaking of the head among the people. 15 My confusion is continually before me, and the shame of my face has covered me, 16 for the voice of him that reproaches and blasphemes by reason of the enemy and of the avenger. 17 All this is come upon us; yet we have not forgotten thee, neither have we dealt falsely in thy covenant. 18 Our heart is not turned back, neither have our steps declined from thy way 19 though thou hast sore broken us in the place of dragons and covered us with the shadow of death. 20 If we have forgotten the name of our God or stretched out our hands to a strange god, 21 shall not God search this out? For he knows the secrets of the heart. 22 Yea, for thy sake are we killed all the day long; we are counted as sheep for the slaughter. 23 Awake, why sleepest thou, O Lord? Arise, do not cast us off for ever. 24 Why dost thou hide thy face and forget our affliction and our oppression? 25 For our soul is bowed down to the dust; our belly cleaves unto the earth. 26 Arise for our help and ransom us for thy mercies’ sake. — Psalm 44 | Jubilee Bible 2000 (JUB) Jubilee Bible 2000 Copyright © 2000, 2001, 2010 by Life Sentence Publishing, Inc. Cross References: Exodus 10:2; Leviticus 26:17; Numbers 6:26; Deuteronomy 6:14; Deuteronomy 28:37; Deuteronomy 32:30; Deuteronomy 33:17; Joshua 22:22; Judges 6:13; 1 Samuel 14:23; Job 3:5; Job 13:24; Psalm 7:6; Psalm 64:8; Psalm 68:28; Psalm 69:7; Psalm 78:7; Psalm 102:13; Psalm 119:157; Proverbs 27:11; Jeremiah 9:24; Jeremiah 15:15; Hosea 1:7; Luke 10:11; Acts 7:45; Romans 8:36

[hotnsteamyfanfic]

My Hottest Fanfic: Luffy Doesn't Post Fanfiction for 3 Months and Gets Deported to Adopt Me 😈⛓️🔞🥵

It’s been three months since my last fanfic, and you haven’t been waiting for no reason.  😈⛓ They say to live life on the edge but this will make you finish at lightning speed ⚡💦🌊

Luffy yawned as he awoke at sea in his bedchamber. He stretched his limbs until he could feel the ceiling and then pulled himself out of bed. Last night he’d partied a bit too hard and crashed into his bed without changing into pajamas. There weren’t many options on the ship, so he decided to stick with the same clothes. He opened up the rugged wooden door to his room, but was shocked by a girl standing there. “Who the hell are you?!” he loudly shrieked. He heard a soft chuckle coming from Zoro at the other side of the ship.

“I’m whatever that girl’s name was from middle school. Like Alistair but I think I got that spelling wrong. I’m here to remind you that you haven’t posted a fanfiction in three months,” she said.

“But… I thought you’d forgotten about this whole joke profile. It’s not that big of a deal that I just haven’t posted in a while,” Luffy responded.

“It is that big of a fucking deal, you hear me?!”

“No.”

“If you’ve ever heard about the story of Arachne from Greek mythology you’ll know to not mess with those in higher power, or face consequences.”

“You’re literally just some girl that broke into the ship, how are you of higher power?”

“You know what? fuck you; you’re going to the world of Adopt Me. Say goodbye to your silly adventures!” she said in a joyous tone.

Luffy suddenly fell through the floorboards of the ship and almost immediately landed into a tiny home with nothing but a bed and a few boxes in front of him. He’d only taken a tiny fall. A small bird from inside the house fluttered around him and said—with a very high-pitched voice—”Welcome to Adopt Me!”

“What the fuck?! The tutorial is supposed to be a fucking textbox, not a bird! The only fucking birds in Adopt Me are those dumb little idiots that ask to eat food sometimes and beg to go to school every, like, 20 days; that is if they even have bird pets in this dumb world.”

The bird angrily replied, “If you’re gonna be such a bitch to me then you might as well just play this game without any tutorial.”

“I’ve always wanted to skip this fucking thing, so thank you very much,” he responded.

Luffy turned around and opened his door, revealing the outside world. He walked the road to the tunnel nearby, basking in the bright houses around him, and went through to the other side.

“Woah, I’m going to act like this is the best thing I’ve ever seen to make this story more epic,” he said to himself. “I want to compliment these buildings to add more words to the story to make it look cooler, but these buildings are fucking stupid. Like, a teacup for a tea shop? A giant slice of pizza as a pizza place? You even got a fucking car on top of the dealership!”

He walked his way to the main plaza directly in front of him surrounding the nursery and was met by screams of people constantly saying phrases along the lines of, “ABC to trust trade dream pet!” Luffy sighed at the repetitive and frankly stupid nature of their speech. He walked over to one that wasn’t yelling and tried to spark a conversation, hoping that someone was able to speak normally.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Luffy asked.

The man responded, “Hi, my name is Jake / DP FR Golden Penguin / Trade unwanted pets / Nice guy / Trying to get neon FR golden unicorn / neon maker / pet is NFT until fully grown / trade for free–”

Luffy cut him off by walking away in an attempt to not go insane from these nonsensical words. He walked inside of the nursery and walked to the section labeled ‘pets’. He was greeted by a dog in fancy clothing and thought, damn, dressing up for the French revolution, huh?

“Greetings, what mayhap bring thou on this fine evening?” the dog asked.

“Egg,” he simply replied.

“Ah, so thine quest is to find a pet, mayhap I interest thou in a starter egg?”

“Yeah.”

“Make sure thy take good care of thine new pet, for it contains thine companion for life, until you abandon it for a new one.” The dog then handed Luffy a giant egg.

Luffy walked back and out the door to the nursery, weaved through the crowd of braindead merchants, through the tunnel, and back home.

He opened the door to his home and went to the room to the front-right: the kitchen. He activated the burner and cracked his massive egg onto the pan, where it immediately started smoking. The heat was way too high and there was no oil in the pan. Luffy started coughing as his whole house quickly filled up with smoke, the sound of his smoke alarm only adding further chaos to the situation. The egg was stuck to the pan and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Zoro looked down into the hole Luffy had fallen throug—watching Luffy as some of the smoke escaped it—and said, “Gyatt damn, he can’t even fry an egg. Shit’s smoking like a black blunt. Dumbass bitch can’t even use a stove. Thought that gum-gum fruit only made him bad at swimming, not cooking. Hey, bitch, I think you forgot the salt. I’d love to start smoking you, but the egg is already doing that. My mom could cook better than that, and she’s dead! I don’t even care if that’s lore accurate, I just know that you being a dumbass is. I bet you tried to fry an egg with baby oil one time. I bet you think that baby oil came from babies. You can’t even operate a microwave without burning the food. When you try to boil pasta you light the water on fire. When you turn on an empty oven you burn the metal grates.”

[onekisstotakewithme]

BJ/Hawkeye/Peg Works

Realizing it's been a while since I made an updated masterlist of all my triad work, so here is one! It's one of my all-time favourite rare pairs 💜 enjoy!

One Shots

xenia (2591 words) - Hawkeye's first trip to California, classics-inspired, post-canon, pre-OT3.

Aqua Vitae (2052 words) - As an anniversary present, BJ and Peg take Hawkeye to a bathhouse in San Francisco; post-canon.

etymology (9437 words) - The evolution of BJ, Peg and Hawkeye's relationship, and the evolution of the language to describe it; canon, post-canon.

fire's burning (draw nearer) (1010 words) - A late night conversation between BJ and Hawkeye that Peg isn't necessarily meant to overhear - but does; post-canon, pre(ish)-OT3.

night and day, you are the one (5462 words) - Hawkeye tries to arrange a date night with BJ and Peg, with mixed results; post-canon.

As Years Unfurl (1500 words) - Under the clock in Grand Central Station, ten years after the war ends, BJ and Peg are waiting; post-canon.

One Small Step (2112 words) - Hawkeye watches the moon landing with his family, and reflects on the nature of progress; post-canon.

Welcome Home (1266 words) - BJ comes home from a conference, to find his partners waiting for him; post-canon.

addressed to the fire (2972 words) - BJ writes a lot of letters to Peg. Occasionally, however, he writes one that he doesn't send. Canon, pre-OT3.

the love that you've looked for (2928 words) - "Looking for a lady who: likes Chinese food, likes walking in the rain..." - personal ad in the San Francisco Chronicle , May 1985; AU, pre-OT3.

the best thing going (5069 words) - Hawkeye visits a nude beach, where a particular couple catches his eye; AU, pre(ish)-OT3.

to you, i'll always belong (7112 words) - BJ and Peg realize that they’re in love with their best friend - but how do they tell him? College AU.

Lucky (1128 words) - Hawkeye walks Peg home on a snowy night, and just has to make his feelings known; College AU.

+ Bonus pre/implied triad:

gardens and nursery walls (1085 words) - A character study on Hawkeye and fatherhood; canon, pre-(implied)OT3.

Dinner and a Show (3775 words) - Hawkeye and BJ have fun at a hospital gala; Smut, implied offscreen OT3.

Multi-Chapter

you were meant for me (4200 words) - When Peg sees “Singin’ in the Rain”, it’s as though a whole world of possibility has opened up; Canon compliant, 3 chapters.

ye who are weary, come home (62,281 words) - The first reunion of the 4077, in Chicago, 1956 provides an opportunity for BJ and Peg to take the leap. Found family, canon ships; Post-canon, OT3, 17 chapters. “Home” part i.

happily ever after... and after (31,041 words) - When Hawkeye is in California for Erin’s birthday, he has to grapple with what happens after the heroes ride into the sunset. Post-canon, OT3, 7 chapters. Home part ii.

and gie's a hand o' thine (39,176 words) - Christmas in Maine, the triad’s first (with additional found family, Charles/Donna, and a dog). Post-canon, OT3, 12 chapters. Home part iii.

*no love less perfect than a life with thee (98,043 words) - Charles and Donna are getting married, at long last, for real. (*Technically not a triad fic, but they’re the B plot!); Post-canon, OT3, 12 chapters. Home part iv.