#I also wrote this a while ago

[callsign-songbird]

Gym buddy Simon

(Small chubby fem mc)

Gym buddy Simon. Soap set him up for one of those stupid "find me ___ person" sites as a prank, and he never expected Simon to find someone that he LIKED. And yet, there you were. Sending him a sweet little request, trying to work on your self-confidence. Tiny chubby little thing. Simon is immediately smitten. He knows that he's going to be more of a personal trainer than a gym buddy, but he really doesn't mind. Just means he gets to watch you sweat and work for HIM. And oh, he likes that. He loves it when you sweat, when you whine because something is a bit too heavy, or you can't take much more; he loves watching your muscles work and strain under your soft layer of squish. Honestly? Simon loves that squish. He has to focus on his own workout whenever you do jumping-jacks or anything that makes your little bit of chub bounce. If he does happen to see it, he'll become almost entranced, imagining kneeding at the soft flesh and littering it with kisses and bite marks, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your plush hips and grinding you back against him. Before he realizes it, his mask has a small wet spot from where he was drooling. He's never been so excited to go to the gym. You're such an absent-minded thing, forgetting the most important things sometimes. But, it's ok because Simon always brings his gym bag, which is always loaded with snacks, protein shakes, pre-workout, hair ties, water bottles, and even some extra gym clothes. He's also incredibly accommodating and pays attention to small things. You have better cardio when listening to a certain playlist? He talked to the gym staff about using their speakers. Nervous about people watching you? Well, he's got the perfect little secluded corner for you. Feeling stressed? He's a great listener! On your period? (He figured out your tells pretty easy) he's got Midol and some feminine hygiene products in his bag of tricks, too. Eventually, you run into the rest of the squad at the gym, and he gets possessive! Long story short, this is a need.

[lady-shadow-and-darkness]

Hear me out :

Teen Dazai and Chuuya going around finding every single arcade in the entire city and always having the very top two high scores in most of the games to the point where every single teen who has ever lived in Yokohama and has gone to any arcade is like "I don't know who the fuck Mackerel and Slug are but they're annoying."

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Sometimes I think I’m not that weird and then I spend a solid amount of time wondering what kind of contraceptives are available in the Grishaverse and specifically how accessible they are in the Barrel, particularly based on the quote “Getting pregnant isn’t actually a special talent. Ask any luckless girl in the Barrel”. Is unwanted pregnancy more common in the Barrel than elsewhere in Ketterdam because of the lack of social services in the city and especially in its poorest areas? is it because teen pregnancies often lead to kids being kicked out so they end up in the Barrel? is there a higher statistic by product of the pleasure houses and especially if there aren’t safe contraceptives readily available in the pleasure houses? and if so what do the people running the pleasure houses do to the girls because of it? is it because unexpected pregnancies in higher social classes would just lead to rushed marriages so it’s more noticeable in the Barrel? or is the comment based solely on Kaz’s individual experience of the city, ie its slums, in which case whilst it’s telling us about the Barrel it’s not making any particular comparison to the rest of the city? I kind of assume there must be some contraceptives available because the possibility of pregnancies in the pleasure houses is never discussed but I doubt they’re readily available and based on what we know about the resources and development in the worldbuilding and timeline may not be the most reliable, in which case what is happening to indentured girls who end up impregnated? Because, somehow, I just don’t think they’re safe. (Where could I have possibly gotten that idea?) So yeah, I am, in fact, that weird. But I really need to know the answer to this.

[steddiehyperfixation]

so you don't get lost (steddie ficlet)

written for @steddielovemonth day 17 rating: T cw: alcohol tags: first kiss, clubbing, college au, platonic stobin prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost

“She’s totally into me, right?” Robin asks as they wait for their drinks at the bar, her smile a mile wide, and it’s been a minute since Steve’s seen her smile like that. 

“Yeah, totally,” Steve agrees. The girl Robin’s been talking to all night is drifting back over to them even as they speak, the two of them like magnets since they first traded smiles on the dance floor earlier that night. 

Robin glances back at her and bites back a wider grin. She bounces on her tippy toes and whispers to Steve, “If I make out with her it’s not gonna make you feel awkward, is it?” 

Steve shakes his head. “Go ahead,” he encourages. 

It had been a group effort to get Robin out tonight. Her university friends had enlisted Steve to help drag her out of the mopey funk she’d been in since getting broken up with two weeks ago, and it had taken an hour of Steve hyping her up while she kept crying off her attempts to do her makeup before she finally managed to make it to the club. He’s just glad it had been worth it. 

“I don’t even know if I remember how to do this,” Robin mutters, a little nervously, as she and Steve grab their drinks and rejoin her friends on the dance floor. But it turns out, she has nothing to worry about. The two girls resume their orbit around each other, and the second the next beat drops and the lights strobe, the other girl finally pulls Robin into a heated kiss. Steve watches this, and he smiles fondly. She deserves it. He’s happy for her. 

And he’s totally not jealous. Not necessarily of Robin, obviously, or the girl she’s kissing, but simply of the fact that they’ve so easily found a hot drunk stranger to make out with at the club and he…hasn’t. He can’t even remember the last time he’s had a decent kiss, much less scored at a club, though not for not wanting to. 

Steve finds himself glancing at Robin’s friend Eddie, the tatted-up metalhead Steve’s felt a pull towards since the first time they’d met. He thinks about kissing him every time they’re out together, and maybe there was a time when Steve would’ve just gone for it, a time before he’d taken a few too many hits to the ego and developed doubts and insecurities, but now the thought just makes him nervous. Eddie makes him nervous. 

He feels that nervousness now as Eddie catches him staring and he shakes those lovely dark curls out of his face and smiles at him. It bubbles in his stomach, flutters in his chest. Steve downs the rest of his drink and looks away. The alcohol floods heat through his veins and blurs his vision, but the ever-present thrum of anxiety just from being in Eddie’s proximity still isn’t dulled. He bobs numbly to the music, avoiding looking at anybody at all now, only staring at the floor or the wall or some super fascinating point just above everyone’s heads, sure he looks like an absolute freak. 

It goes beyond just wanting to kiss Eddie; Steve’s not stupid, he knows the only explanation for this sheer amount of nervousness he feels around him is that he’s got an actual, proper crush. Because not only is Eddie super fucking hot, he’s also sweet. Steve is an outsider in this group and he knows it, the college dropout who only tags along because Robin insists on it, but Eddie never makes him feel like that. It’s always Eddie who makes sure he’s included in conversations, always Eddie who makes a point to loop Steve into the context of inside jokes and stories whenever Robin is too distracted to. Steve craves those interactions, gets a thrill every time Eddie so much as speaks to him. So he doesn’t only want to kiss him, he also just wants Eddie to like him, wants him to see him as a friend at the very least. But it’s not like they’ve ever even hung out outside of a group setting, and sometimes Steve fears Eddie’s just being nice and he doesn’t actually see him as anything at all. 

Steve’s drifted so far into his own head he doesn’t realize his group is on the move, pushing deeper into the dance floor and leaving him behind. 

“Steve!” Eddie’s voice calls out to him and snaps him out of it. Everyone else has been taken by the crowd, but Eddie hangs back, reaching his hand out to Steve. 

Steve takes it, swallowing down the way his heart pounds as Eddie’s fingers curl around his hand. Eddie pulls him through the throng of jostling, sweaty bodies, and even though he maintains a tight grip on Steve’s hand, he still keeps looking back at him like he’s making extra sure Steve doesn’t get lost. Warmth blooms in Steve’s chest. Maybe he’s just drunk, maybe he’s just delusional, but all of the sudden he feels so very very cared for. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, nearly shouting to be heard over the music. 

“‘Course.” Eddie smiles as he turns around to face him. They’ve caught up to their friends now, but he’s still holding Steve’s hand. “I’d never just leave you stranded.” 

Of course he wouldn’t. He never has before. Steve just smiles back and squeezes Eddie’s hand. 

They’ve only just let go of each other when Robin and her girl, still kissing clumsily and staggering about the dance floor, stumble straight into Steve and knock him off balance. “Woah!” Eddie reaches for him again instantly, looping an arm around Steve’s waist to keep him from toppling over or careening into the crowd. 

“Ah! Sorry!” Robin giggles before she’s whisked away again. 

Eddie laughs. “Good for her, right?” 

“Yeah, good for her,” Steve says, watching his best friend spin out of sight, and when he looks back he startles at how close he and Eddie are, suddenly very aware of Eddie’s arm around his waist and his hands on Eddie’s chest. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his grip on Steve tightening like he means to steady him. 

“Yeah, thanks again.” Steve regains his footing, but he doesn’t pull away. There’s something there, he thinks, in the way Eddie’s always reaching out to him so he doesn’t get lost, literally and figuratively, in crowds and conversations. It could just be friendly, it could just be nothing, but for the first time, Steve lets himself hope. He even thinks about leaning in right now, but then he thinks about it too much, and he doesn’t. 

Instead, there’s a weird moment where they’re both just staring at each other. Eddie’s got this confused little smile on his face like he’s waiting to see what Steve will do, and when Steve doesn’t do anything, Eddie’s smile abruptly becomes more playful as if he’s trying to break the tension, and he starts theatrically swaying them to the music, even though it is most definitely not the swaying sort of beat. Steve laughs, his racing heart making it come out giddy and giggly, especially when Eddie drops his waist to grab his hand and twirl him around. 

Eddie pulls him in close again then, and this time Steve doesn’t think at all. In fact, it’s unclear which one of them leans in first; all Steve knows is that their lips finally, finally meet in the middle and he finally, finally gets to tangle his hands in Eddie’s hair, and it’s sweet and it’s hungry and it’s absolutely perfect. Steve holds onto Eddie and he gets lost in him. 

When Steve meets back up with Robin outside after the club closes, they exchange a celebratory, congratulatory high five, the both of them with matching kiss-swollen lips and dates set for next week. 

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

"nobody wants to work anymore" but a low paying casual retail job wants you to travel to a capital city you don't live in, which is a considerable distance and time travelled from you (when you actively have a branch of this shop in your LOCAL shopping centre, 15mins down the road); for a group interview assessment centre. they then make you CONGA LINE into the said group interview with party poppers and streamers. like ma'am. I don't care how "ironic hipster millennial and 90s nostalgia" and "life of the party" this brand is supposed to be. but I ain't conga lining into this interview like a fucking clown. fuck some hiring managers and HR depts, honestly.

[malacandrax]

ok i am posting this here to forbid myself from trying to finish this rn. I am going to REST (its almost midnight... there is no longer time for restful activities...)

[leonardalphachurch]

i was trying to figure out how to make tucker be less shitty in a way that would work in canon without making it sound like a Very Special Episode about it and settled on the answer that he’s genuinely trying to improve but just. really dumb about it. like so:

tucker: im sorry, kai, i guess what i said to you was… misogyny?

kai: yeah… you know, you should talk to my hr rep. she’s the one who taught me i shouldn’t take my shirt off in front of my employees

tucker: what? why?

kai: apparently having my tits out makes people “uncomfortable”

tucker: who would be uncomfortable about your tits? they’re awesome!

kai: i know, right! but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfy, so these puppies stay in their cages

tucker: well i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfy either… you know, if you were a dude i bet people wouldn’t care if you took your shirt off— oh my god. thats misogyny!

later

tucker: wash, guess what! i learned what misogyny is

wash: …what?

tucker: well, yknow, like, i knew what it was but did you know that, like, it’s still an issue that affects women in real life?

wash: ……………y. yes.

tucker: i know! crazy right? hey, carolina!

camera pans to carolina, who was standing right there the whole time

tucker: it sucks that you can’t take your shirt off in public. i think you should be able to take off your shirt AND not have guys make any comments about your tits, even if they’re awesome.

wash: do you want me to punch him or do you want to do it yourself

carolina: no, no, i… think this is actually an improvement

[the-broken-pen]

“I’ve never used a gun before,” the hero swallowed, mouth dry. They had never needed to, but now—

The villain’s head lolled over to look at them. A lazy grin spread across their face.

“Don’t worry,” they held the hero’s gaze, unflinching. “I have.”

The gun went off. Across the room, one of their enemies dropped, blood splattering against the wall.

Still, the villain didn’t break eye contact, content to shoot without looking. They hit their target every time, but still—

“Can you please look where you’re pointing that thing?”

“Why,” the villain tipped their head, and that shit eating grin was back, “Am I making you nervous, hero?”

The hero grimaced as the villain sent another target sprawling onto the floor. Surely they had to run out of ammo eventually?

When the hero didn’t respond, the villain laughed.

“Oh, I am. Well, that’s adorable, frankly.”

The hero flinched at the next gunshot, and the villain nodded their head towards the hero’s gun. “If you were to—and bear with me this is a crazy idea—help me, this would be over with way faster.”

The hero looked down to their gun, shifting it side to side in their hands. It didn’t look all that hard. Point, aim, shoot. They could do that, right?

They lifted their gun, aiming at the nearest combatant—

The villain slid to a stop next to them, tsking, and their hand settled onto the hero’s gun too quickly for them to see. “Not-no not quite like that,” they hummed in the hero’s ear, and though they couldn’t see their face, the hero knew they were amused. 

The hero’s jaw clenched with irritation.

“First,” the villain murmured, far too close, “Safety needs to be off.” They clicked something on the hero’s gun, repositioning the hero’s hands as they did. “Second,” they continued, and the hero shivered. “Don’t aim at me, love. You like me too much to kill me.”

“You’re awfully sure about that.”

The villain half rested their chin on the hero’s shoulder, batting their eyes. Their free arm jerked up, firing a shot behind them at someone who had evidently gotten too close to the two of them.

“I am,” they grinned. Their hand rested over the hero’s once more. “Now, aim,” they guided the hero’s hand towards the nearest enemy. Their finger slipped over the hero’s on the trigger. “And shoot.” They pulled down on the trigger, trapping the hero’s finger underneath theirs, so when the gun fired, they fired it together. The hero winced.

It was louder than the hero had thought it would be.

Across the room, the body dropped.

“Good,” the villain praised, voice low, and something stirred in the hero’s chest. “Again, love.”

They guided the hero through the motions once more.

By the time there was no one left to fight, the villain was staring at them with a look they couldn’t decipher. It was all encompassing. Hungry. Wild.

The hero cleared their throat, and the villain smirked like they knew what the hero was doing.

They eyed the hero, still with that look on their face.

“God, you’re pretty with a gun in your hand,” the villain cursed. They stepped closer. The hero didn’t move, holding their breath as the villain wiped a splattering of blood off their face. “Pretty covered in blood, too, but that might be a bit too insane for you, hm?”

The hero’s face went hot. It wasn’t, they thought. They wanted to kiss the villain so badly they worried it might be a sickness, twisting their mind, something terminal. But still, that smile—

The villain stepped away. They scanned the hero’s blushing face, and grinned harder at whatever they saw.

Gently, they took the gun from the hero’s hands, vanishing it behind their back.

“The next time you need someone to show you how to shoot, give me a call,” they nodded towards the hero’s hands. “I wouldn’t want someone else touching my hero, now would I?”

The hero couldn’t stop the smile that spread across their face.

The villain winked, stepped back, and was gone.

My hero.

Oh, the hero was well and truly fucked.

[starrylevi]

Levi taking care of his drunk SO

“Hi,” you say all smiley. “Hi.” He answers back with a hint of a smirk. It’s clear you’re absolutely plastered but you still manage to look incredibly adorable to him. “Do you love me?” Levi rolls his eyes at that. “Come on, humor me” you whine to him. “Yes, I love you.” He huffs, a bit annoyed he’s giving into your drunk demands. “Do I annoy you?” Levi already sees where this is going, and he is not for it. “Let’s drink some water, hm?” He cups your cheek, and you visibly brighten at the touch. “You love me lots.” You giggle and it takes all of him not to giggle with you. Your laugh is just so infectious. “I do.” He says softly. “Now it’s time for water.” He gets up to get the liquid. “Wait, don’t go. Don’t leave me.” You grab him as you pout, your eyes pleading with him. He sighs before answering you. He knows where this is coming from, you need to feel reassured, to know that you are loved by him and that he won’t abandon you. “I’m not leaving, brat. I’m going to get you water.” He says it in a light tone, so you won’t take it the wrong way. “Okayyyy but come back fast.” Levi grabs a bottle of water from your shared fridge and then grabs some Advil before he gets back to you. He’s not gone for long but when he gets back you react as if you haven’t seen him in weeks. “I missed you!” He chuckles, shaking his head as he hands you the water and the pills. “I missed you too,” He says as you accept them. “Now drink.” He gestures to the water bottle in your hand. You stick out your tongue at him before washing the pills down with water. “Done.” You smile. “Good. Time for bed.” He declares as he gently takes the water bottle and sets it down on the nightstand. You pout at the statement, but Levi doesn’t react; he kneels down in front of you before taking off your shoes, looking up at you with a small smirk. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.” He gets back up and gently puts his hands on your shoulders. “Now be a good girl and lie down.” You do exactly what he says but not without a huff. Levi lets out a small chuckle at your reaction, shaking his head before turning the light off. You sigh to yourself as Levi settles in behind you, pulling you into his arms. “I love you.” He murmurs, placing a soft kiss behind your ear. “I love you more.” You say playfully. “Never.” He responds, gripping you tightly as you let out a small giggle. “Now sleep, my love.”

[eowyntheavenger]

I’m so happy! The publication took my article—AND THEN POSTED IT ON THE FRONT PAGE! :)

[sliceofhotsoda]

“Even if we never become pro volleyball players, I think we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

Shoyou leaned sideways into Tobio’s back, laying his head down on his shoulder. He wished he could see his face.

“What’s the point in doing all this if we can’t play volleyball in the end?”

Tobio’s voice seemed to rattle inside of Shoyou. Good question, he thought feebly.

“There’s a point,” Shoyou insisted, firm. But in his head, he said to him, there’s a good chance you’d be all alone in that house right now if we’d never met.

No way would Shoyou let that happen.

They stared at their feet in a shared sad silence. Kageyama glanced down at him at the same time that Shoyou risked a look at Kageyama, then both gazes flitted away.

“There’s a point,” Shoyou repeated. Heaviness sunk inside his gut, profound. “Maybe volleyball isn’t the point at all. Would there even have been a reason to keep playing if we didn’t have the team we have now? I mean, if you were on Seijoh instead of Karasuno and we never learned our special quick, or if you were never there to push me further, maybe volleyball wouldn’t be worth all our attention anymore.”

Shoyou swallowed hard, awaiting Kageyama’s response. He wasn’t even sure why this felt so important, but he had a feeling it had something to do with how much Kageyama meant to him.

Kageyama’s brows furrowed. He seemed deep in thought, his eyes growing wide as if he’d remembered something very necessary.

“Without you, I might have given up volleyball,” Kageyama said, hushed.

[beforetimes]

just something so crazy about it. you spend years of your life chasing after half-written happy endings you know you're not meant to have, but take a chance on anyway. just because you find a penny lying heads-up on the same chilly dusk evening you've found out you're in love with your best friend: luck is telling you against the odds that there will be sprawls of life grown from gravel in the wake of this. only for all those things to fall to the wayside, dried leaves marking the grave of an old-but-not-forgotten dead garden. something or other about how the past fades but never disappears. you try to clear away withered old roses and thorns for a touch of new life and get so wrapped up in the scent of flora that you don't notice things have never really changed; not until you start to pay attention to the crunch of dead leaves under your feet under the summer sun. 

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[oh-no-its-bird]

bird. bird please. please. please write a ficlet/short oneshot for me about kakashi having raw meat cravings and how he deals with them. please. and at night he starts having dreams about the ghosts of his ancestors (including tobirama) at a feast or something where theyre eating. raw meat. or he dreams that theyre encouraging him to like 'you're so skinny because you don't have enough meat!' and kakashi thinks he's developing a mental disorder. please bird would you do it for me

Anything for you random anon in my inbox <3

Kakashi, the unfortunate lack of knowledge of the Hatake clan kekkei genkai, and his relationship with food; As seen by others over the years.

Oh also if you're brave enough to come off anon and give me ur ao3 I'll edit the fic to be gifted to you

[kiyomitakada]

The ship lurched again.

Kiyomi Takada gritted her teeth as she thrust her hand out, catching herself against the bridge’s safety rails before she slammed into the walls. She raised her voice. “Mikami, status update!”

“The ship is fine!” Mikami yelled back faintly. She could hear him banging around in the main status panel at the back of the ship.

“Clearly it’s not!”

“I meant physically!”

“Code looks fine too,” Yagami added, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Nobody’s hacked in or anything.”

“Then how is this” — Kiyomi gestured at the instruments they hadn’t bothered to tie down flying around the bridge, the groaning metal walls, the planets in their viewing window tilting this way and that as the ship wobbled — “happening?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Yagami said grimly. Kiyomi peered over his shoulder; he was checking camera logs now. Still nothing. “Unless there’s a giant invisible magnet outside that’s moving really fast.”

Kiyomi had discovered very late into their acquaintanceship that Yagami, despite all appearances, had a bit of a weird imagination. It was endearing most of the time, but not when they were probably about to all get concussions and die.

Kiyomi clenched her jaw. She hated this. Her job as a communications officer was fulfilling, but in emergencies like these she felt as useless as an underwater basket weaver.

“I’m going to check the windows,” she said.

Yagami nodded, not taking his eyes off the screen. Kiyomi dashed off to the hallway into the back of the ship.

“Any updates?” Mikami asked, poking his head out of the panel. His perfectly groomed hair was now greasy with motor oil.

Kiyomi shook her head. “Anything I can help with?”

“No,” Mikami said, with the finality of an expert.

Kiyomi sighed. She’d figured that was the case. “Alright. Good luck, I suppose.”

Mikami nodded at her and ducked back in.

Kiyomi looked around, a little helplessly. The vibrations of the ship were stronger now. She darted into her room across the hall; the glass globe she kept on the windowsill, a gift from her father when she decided to sail, was shaking against its restraints so quickly that it was practically emitting music.

Kiyomi narrowed her eyes. Why did that remind her of something?

She rooted around in the back of her head, but turned up nothing. Kiyomi frowned. Maybe she should brush up on her textbooks again, if they didn’t all die here and now.

She pushed the flapping window blinds open perfunctorily, ready to turn and look for something else to do —

She froze.

That was… a person. There was a person outside, floating in the vacuum of space with no protection, blonde hair tied in two pigtails that swayed in a nonexistent breeze. Their eyes were closed. They were smiling.

Where their legs should have been was a long, shimmering black tail.

Kiyomi froze only briefly. Then she yelled: “Yagami!”

“What?”

“What do the starboard cameras see?”

“Space,” Yagami said. “And Aresthos X13 about 1.5 billion kilometers away.”

“Never mind that.” So they weren’t showing up on the camera feed, but were visible to regular humans?

Kiyomi remembered what the passage in her textbook said about this. Mermaids were almost extinct in the 32nd century; most had been poached for their scales, believed to have healing properties. (The human-level sentience of mermaids was established by the 28th century, but that had never stopped poachers before.) The few who had survived were theorized to have developed light manipulation techniques such that they could avoid detection when necessary.

Which meant that this mermaid was letting Kiyomi see them.

“I know what’s wrong,” Kiyomi said, letting the window blinds drop and pushing the door open.

Mikami pulled his head out of the panel again. “What?”

“There’s someone outside. A mermaid.”

Mikami’s face screwed up — not at the prospect of the mermaid but at the prospect of potential social interaction. “Oh god. What do they want?”

“To kill us all, most likely,” Kiyomi said. Her textbook hadn’t really elaborated on what mermaids tended to want. “I’ll go negotiate.”

“I suppose that means there’s nothing wrong with the ship?”

Kiyomi hesitated. Was it possible that the mermaid was unrelated?

Reports from before mermaids became endangered universally describe a mermaid encounter as a hazard, though it is often unclear why. Their suspected powers include manipulation of the metal around a spacecraft, manipulation of the visible light levels, and possibly manipulation of the mind.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Kiyomi said decisively. “It has to be our visitor.” She took a breath. “Go back to the bridge. I need you and Yagami ready to fire if anything goes wrong.”

Mikami paused. For a second Kiyomi was afraid he would object or pull seniority on her, but he nodded and extracted himself from the panel. “Discreetly, I assume.”

“Mm.” No need to let the mermaid know they had somewhat stronger firepower than an ordinary government-turned-merchant vessel probably should. “And do you know where the memetic shielding suits are?”

“In the closet with the rest.” Mikami pointed. “The blue ones.”

“Thank you,” Kiyomi said, and briskly power-walked over. A few slightly humiliating minutes struggling in the closet ensued before she was in the airlock, tying the extraction tether around her waist just in case.

She pressed the READY signal button on her suit.

“Cleared,” Yagami’s voice crackled in her ear, and the doors opened.

Instantly everything turned pitch-black.

Kiyomi’s breath involuntarily caught in her throat. There was a faint light she could see bobbing at the end of her tunnel of sight, but that was all. She whipped her head around. The ship was gone.

No, she reminded herself, not gone, she just couldn’t see it. Automatically she felt for the extraction tether; it was still there, taut as always. She exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Y’know, it’s not nice to look away when someone’s talking to you.”

Kiyomi blinked, then flinched back. The glow was right in front of her now. It was coming from the mermaid: the shimmer of their scales lit up an aura around them, just bright enough for them to be visible in their entirety without illuminating any of the surrounding area.

Yes, this was the same mermaid. Blonde. Twin pigtails. And they were… pouting at her?

“Takada!” It was Yagami from the internal radio. “The ship’s stopped lurching!”

“What?”

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing, we’ll get on securing everything,” Yagami said.

Had Kiyomi done anything? She turned back to the mermaid.

“Hey, can you even hear me?” The mermaid’s pout had turned into a scowl. “Anything in that suit?”

Kiyomi reached down and flipped the switch that allowed her voice to project outward. This was usually pointless. Sound couldn’t travel in space. But Kiyomi had learned very quickly that in some areas of the universe, the laws of physics were more like suggestions.

“My name is Kiyomi Takada. She/her.”

The mermaid’s eyes lit up. “You can talk! What do you do?”

“I’m a communications officer for the ship Kira-maru,” Kiyomi said. Her voice came out very steady. “So I… communicate.”

“So formal,” the mermaid mused, frowning a little. “You’re definitely government for sure.”

“I’m actually not—” Kiyomi caught herself. Never volunteer too much information. “What’s your name?”

“Me? I’m Misa Amane! And I’m a she, I guess.” The mermaid beamed at her, then positioned one hand into the shape of a gun and cocked it at her. A wink. “But you can call me Misa-Misa.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Amane-san.”

“Definitely government,” Misa mumbled to herself. “So what brings you all here to our little corner of the galaxy? We don’t get many visitors.”

“‘We’?”

“Yeah, we,” Misa said, smile sliding a little off somehow.

“We’re only passing through. Distributing the census,” Kiyomi lied. This was a practiced cover story. “Aresthos X13 population scan.”

“Hmm.” Misa’s head tilted. Her pigtails drifted in the nonexistent breeze; her eyes, now that Kiyomi was close enough to observe, were brown, but they flashed with electric blue every so often. A trick of the light, Kiyomi told herself.

“So if you don’t mind, we’d very much like to be getting on.”

“Wait!”

Kiyomi blinked. There was a thread of desperation in Misa’s voice, but it was gone as soon as it came.

“What is it?”

“If you go,” Misa said — and her eyes flashed the most brilliant blue yet — “I’ll start singing again.”

“…Singing?”

Instead of replying Misa closed her eyes. The glow around her began pulsating softly. She smiled that strange little smile that Kiyomi had first seen on the ship…

Yagami yelped in her ear.

Kiyomi flipped the switch back to internal audio. “What is it?”

“It’s shaking again,” Yagami said. “What’s—?”

He was cut off by a metallic crash.

“Just keep talking,” Yagami said hurriedly before the transmission was cut off.

Kiyomi flipped the switch back on and was about to demand answers from Misa, when she froze.

She heard it. The music. Only a few notes, but it was a familiar melody:

La, lalala lala la…

It was the lullaby her mother used to sing to her.

No. No, that was impossible. Kiyomi blinked away the sudden tears forming in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

Misa’s smile widened just a little. Instead of answering she kept humming — Kiyomi was sure that was it now; Misa’s throat was vibrating, and her scales fluttered like feathers.

La, lalala lala la…

The ship audio transmission buzzed to life again. Kiyomi waited for an order, but there was nothing — just another metallic crash. It must have turned on by accident.

“Stop it,” Kiyomi said, her heart hammering in her throat. How dare she remind her of her mother?

“Funny,” Misa said, grinning now. “Usually people are dead by now. Or they’ve gone cuckoo.”

Kiyomi took a breath in the temporary reprieve. “Maybe I’m different.”

This wasn’t true. It was the memetic protection from her helmet and she knew it. But it felt extraordinarily good to believe.

“Maybe you are, Kiyomi,” Misa said.

La, lalala lala la…

“What do you want?” Kiyomi tried. The reverberations of her ship shaking apart echoed in her ears. “We’re carrying food, jewels…” Ammunition…

“Take me with you.”

“What?”

“Take me with you,” Misa repeated, crossing her arms again defiantly. “Or I’ll just keep going.”

Kiyomi swallowed.

She could just yell for Mikami to fire. His marksmanship was inexplicably expert.

Back in the academy her superiors had always told her she was too soft. Communication doesn’t mean everyone just gets along, they’d say while Kiyomi seethed because she knew that already. Sometimes you have to make hard decisions.

So she’d gotten colder. More objective. Refined Takada, some said with awe and others with a sneer. She could look desperate people — alien entities, the handbook insisted — in the eye during simulations and tell them that she would need much higher compensation if they wanted clean water infrastructure sometime in the next decade.

But this was reality. And maybe Kiyomi was weak, maybe they’d been right this whole time.

She looked at Misa Amane and imagined her head blowing off her shoulders right in front of her.

La, lalala lala la…

Her instructor, on the first day of freshman year: A communications officer is one of the most important components of a ship. You represent your crew. You represent the Empire. Your voice could sink spaceships.

Kiyomi flipped the internal audio switch and yelled, “Yagami!”

“What is it?” He was panting from exertion.

“Get into a memetic shielding suit now,” Kiyomi said. “You and Mikami both.”

“What? Why?”

“Trust me!”

Another crash. The sound cut out again.

Kiyomi took a deep breath and considered Misa. She’d finally identified the emotion in that smile she wore when she hummed.

It was wistfulness.

There was someone who Misa Amane missed very, very much.

“I accept your conditions,” she said. “But only if you stop singing right now.”

Misa froze. “What, really?”

“Yes,” Kiyomi said. She held out a hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Misa stared at her for a very long time. She wasn’t humming anymore.

“Well?”

Misa reached out and wrapped her hand around the arm of Kiyomi’s suit. Her fingers, Kiyomi noticed, were ever so slightly longer than a human’s would be.

“Okay,” Misa said.

Her eyes had stopped flashing. They were a dark, solid brown; Kiyomi thought she’d be able to see constellations in there if she looked hard enough.

“Hold on,” Kiyomi warned, then slammed the button for EMERGENCY EXTRACTION.

The tether attached to the waist of her suit started reeling in, and then they were flying, and Misa’s laugh was giddy in her ears, and Kiyomi —

For just a split second, Kiyomi thought she felt joy.

[ @deathnotetober day 17: music ]

[holleringhollowfolk]

Ghouls HC

Okay, hear me out. I know, I know this theory is contradictory with a lot of fandom lore so just take it as a fun thought.

What if ghouls aren’t actually demons. What if a summoning gathers souls from animals or humans that recently died.

When an earthly creature dies right after a summoning starts the soul is collected to form a new ghoul. Every element needs a certain type of creature thus water ghouls need fish souls, air ghouls need bird souls, earth ghouls need any type mammal that lives on land, quints have human souls and fire ghouls need reptile souls (being the closest thing to a dragon). A soul needs to be strong to form a new ghouls so when no strong souls are available multiple weaker souls are merged together, that’s how multis are formed.

I like to think that the look of the ghouls is solely based on how humans thought they should look like. Given that the summoning is a magic invented by humans, they therefore (subconsciously) decided to give the ghouls a human/demon look.