#I'm sure plenty of you expected something along these lines

[lucimaaie]

ellie as spiderwoman hcs ✧.* au

a/n- honestly was just an excuse for me to watch spiderman again and i took it, kind of switch between would’ve and did idk babes im just having fun atp

she'd have lost her mom at a young age and been placed with joel, who she never gets along with at first, thinking he's just a bil ol meanie who wanted an extra check every month.

that was until he showed he cared, not through hugs and affection in the traditional sense, but making sure she did her homework, picking her up everyday, getting her out of her room, checking on her when she'd been too quiet. "you okay, kiddo?" and "i heard talking helps." he'd say as he leaned on the door frame. eventually, she couldn't help but love him.

absolutely a nerd. though, when she got teased, she didn't exactly back down as expected which landed her in the detention a few times and some talking-to's. but she won and defended herself. no one could be mad at her for that. still, she was smart. she was going to be an astronaut after all. though that dream died in middle school.

high school came and she tried to straighten up. no more fighting bullies, even if they deserved it. she was better than that. she would get an internship, the internship that would line everything up, get her a scholarship so she could study aerospace engineering, get rich and get joel out of the old house on a patch of land with however many sheep he wanted. the same internship that got her bitten by a radioactive spider and shooting webs out her wrists.

words could not describe how much she worried joel when she woke up the day after, crushing her alarm clock, breaking the sink, the shower rack, everything. she skipped that day, hanging out on the rooftop of the house while joel was away stuck between having a panic attack from the sensory overload and telling someone, anyone. she decided on testing them out which earned her quite a few bruises joel luckily chalked up to another fight. "we gotta talk about this fighting thing sometime." she'd roll her eyes, saying something snarky before limping up the stairs. "say what you want but i win," "i heard that!"

also sidebar: ellie as a new yorker...whew. honestly ellie as anything- anyway.

hours or research ensue on cross-species genetics, spiderbites, different types of spiders, everything that made her feel disgusting. she slammed her laptop closed, crushing the poor thing.

it felt like there were a million things to do with her newfound powers but the only two on her mind was impress dina and swing from the rooftops. c’mon, she was 16 with the powers of a freaking spider. who said saving people would the first thing on her mind? she felt powerful, even weirder than she already felt but still powerful.

it was terrible, watching joel get more and more disappointed in her as she got distracted. “i’m a good kid! i just got distracted, gimmie a break.” “i have given you plenty. more than i should’ve. and that’s on me. that's my mistake to make you think that coming home late and fighting and blowing me off is okay.”

“i can't help how i turned out! don't blame me for being a shitty dad.” she yelled before slamming the door and stalking off into who knows where. she didn't even mean it, she was just stressed, she never meant any of it. hours later, she’d wish those words never came out her mouth.

she'd hoped she was having some cruel nightmare when she saw joel laid out on the pavement. "some help me! c-call an ambulance. don't just fucking stand there-" her voice was raw as she screamed out. "c'mon, don't die on me. y-you can't. i'm sorry? is that what you wanna hear? i'm sorry."

she hated the looks of pity, everyone's soft voices. people who never once talked to her suddenly caring. it was all fake. they didn't know her and they sure and hell didn't know joel.

she became another person for a while. quieter, more closed off. sometimes snappy. laser focused on finding the low-life took joel from her. that's when she started wearing the mask. the basic concept of it anyway and it caught on with the people, more than she imagined. ellie scoffed at the name spider-woman at first, thinking it was ridiculous. she wasn't some circus performer, she was just trying to find the killer.

dina as her mj, reaching out to her after joel’s death, inviting her over for dinner, talking to her in class, all of it. it wasn’t the same disingenuous pity she hated, she could feel she cared. so she allowed her feelings to fester. being with her actually helped. it was one more thing to balance with school and the internship and her mission, but it was more person in her life. she needed that.

one day ellie went running towards the trouble. not because joel's killer was there or cause of some adrenaline rush, but because she needed to do something. to not be helpless for once. she wasn't helpless. she hadn't felt completely in control of her body as she webbed a whole bridge back together and pulled cars back onto the surface, but in the end it was a like a high. it still ached to see kids running to their parents and everyone running to their families, but they were all safe. she did that. and that felt better than getting revenge and letting it suck the life out of her. so she'd wear the spandex and the mask and go by the stupid name. only cause it meant something now.

thank you for reading!

[midastouch013]

Prank Back

Summary: Natasha plans to take revenge on your hickey prank with a break up prank, but what happens when the tables are turned?

Warnings: Mentions of break ups, sad Nat for a brief time. Y/n is a prank master, as usual

Can be read as a sequel to Hickey Prank Backfire, or as a stand alone too

---------------

Natasha Romanoff sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were narrowed, and her lips formed a smirk . The hickey prank that you had pulled on her a few days ago had left her determined to get her revenge. Natasha was known for being a master of espionage and a skilled prankster, so she couldn't let this go unanswered.The apartment was cloaked in an unusual tension as you stepped through the door, Natasha Romanoff perched on the couch, her demeanor unusually solemn. A frown etched your features as you approached her, the worry evident in your voice.

"Nat, what's wrong?" you asked, your tone laced with concern. "Did something happen on the mission?"

Natasha sighed heavily, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance. "We need to talk," she said, her voice low and serious.

Your heart skipped a beat at her tone, and you took a seat beside her, worried about what she wanted to say "Talk about what?"

She hesitated, her expression betraying the turmoil within. "Y/N, I think we should break up," she finally said, her voice steady but carrying an underlying sadness.

Your heart sank at her words, confusion clouding your thoughts. Break up? This was the last thing you expected, and you struggled to process the sudden turn of events. "Break up? Why?"

Natasha's eyes softened, filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "I just don't think we're on the same page anymore. It's better if we go our separate ways."

A knot formed in your stomach, the shock of her words threatening to overwhelm you. Natasha, the one person you never imagined being without, was talking about ending things between you. But even in the midst of your confusion, a flicker of suspicion crossed your mind.  She was pranking you, to get back for the hickey one you pulled on her.

Playing along, you tried put on what looked like a forced smile. "Is there someone else, Nat?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

She shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness. "No, it's not about someone else. It's about us and where we're headed."

Feigning acceptance, you nodded slowly. "I understand," you said, your voice barely audible. "I've been feeling the same way too."

A look of panic flashed across Natasha's face, her carefully constructed plan beginning to unravel. "You have?"

You nodded again, internally smirking. "Yeah, I mean, I didn't want to say anything, but I've been thinking about it too."

The panic in Natasha's eyes grew more pronounced, her mind racing to find a way to salvage the situation. "Y/N, I… I didn't expect you to take it like this."

You shrugged, masking your internal laughter with a facade of calm. "It's probably for the best," you said, forcing the words out. "We'll both be better off apart."

As you stood up, pretending to gather your things, Natasha's desperation reached a higher level. "Y/N, wait! Maybe we can talk about this…"

But before she could say anything more, your phone rang, breaking the tense silence. With a glance at the caller ID, you saw that it was Kate Bishop. An idea sparked in your mind, and you answered the call.

"Hey, Kate," you said, your voice laced with tension.

Kate's cheerful voice came through the line. "Hey, Y/N! We're going out for drinks with Yelena and Wanda. You in?"

Playing along with the reverse prank, you used a code word to signal Kate about your fictional exit strategy. "Sounds good, Kate. Count me in. By the way, can I crash at your 'jelly' place for a few days?"

Kate chuckled on the other end. "Sure thing, Y/N. I've got plenty of room."

As you ended the call, you turned back to Natasha, who was watching you with a mix of confusion and panic. " I'm going out for drinks with Kate, Yelena, and Wanda," you announced, enjoying the bewildered expression on Natasha's face. " I'll be back tomorrow to get my stuff"

Natasha's eyes widened in disbelief, her mind struggling to process the sudden turn of events. "Drinks? Y/N, you can't be serious."

You nodded solemnly, "Yeah, Nat. I need some time away to clear my head. Oh, and I'll be crashing at Kate's, so you don't have to worry about me bugging you till  I get my own place"

The color drained from Natasha's face as she stammered, "Crash at Kate's? You're really leaving?"

With a dramatic flourish, you headed for the door, relishing in the chaos you had created. "Well, maybe it's for the best. You wanted to break up and there's no way we can stay in the same place, and Kate's a good friend. I'm sure she won't mind."

As you stepped into the hallway, leaving Natasha in a state of confusion, you couldn't shake the twinge of guilt that tugged at your conscience, because of last time. However, you knew the prank was all in good fun, and you couldn't resist the opportunity to turn the tables on Natasha in the most unexpected way.

So, rather than heading out for drinks with Kate, Yelena, and Wanda, you decided to make a detour. A quick stop at the local convenience store allowed you to pick up Natasha's favorite ice cream, knowing that a sweet treat might help soothe the aftermath of the elaborate prank.

A few minutes later, you returned to the apartment, holding a pint of Natasha's beloved ice cream. The once-confused expression on Natasha's face had transformed into something more profound—an amalgamation of surprise, relief, and a hint of vulnerability.

"Change of plans," you announced with a warm smile, though concern flickered in your eyes. "I thought we could use some ice cream instead of drinks."

Natasha looked at you, her features betraying a mixture of emotions. "Ice cream? What happened to going out with Kate and the others?"

You handed her the pint, but this time, the playful banter was replaced by a sense of understanding. "I knew you were pulling a prank, Nat. So, I decided to play along and spice things up a bit."

A shadow passed over Natasha's eyes, a momentary vulnerability surfacing. "You knew? From the beginning?"

You nodded, the mischievous glint in your eyes replaced with a genuine concern. "Yeah, I had a feeling. But I wanted to make sure this prank didn't take a toll on you."

The weight of the situation became apparent as Natasha accepted the ice cream, her usual composure momentarily shaken. As you settled onto the couch together, the air was thick with unspoken emotions. Natasha, typically unflappable, now looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown.

Concern etched your features as you reached out to her. "Nat, are you okay?"

She hesitated, a vulnerability in her eyes that you rarely saw. "I… I didn't expect it to go this far. I thought it was just a prank, but… it felt real."

Gently, you squeezed her hand, offering reassurance. "It's okay, Nat. Pranks are meant to be fun, not distressing. Next time, I'll stick to dying your hair as a prank, and you're welcome to dye mine"

Natasha's expression softened "Well, aren't you the hero I never knew I needed? Saving me from the perils of my own pranks."

You couldn't resist adding a touch of humor to lighten the mood. "I aim to be the prank rescue squad. It's a niche market, but someone's gotta do it."

She shot you a sardonic smirk. "Oh, lucky me. I've got the best sidekick in the business."

You chuckled, nudging her gently. "Sidekick? Please, I prefer the term 'prank aficionado.'"

She raised an eyebrow, deadpan. "Aficionado? Fancy. I'll make sure to put that on your superhero business card."

"Absolutely. Don't forget to add 'Master of Deception' and 'Ice Cream Enthusiast,'" you quipped.

Natasha pretended to ponder this for a moment. "Well, at least you're setting realistic expectations. I appreciate that."

"Oh, always keeping it real," you replied, a grin playing on your face.

She shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You know, most people have normal relationships. But not us. No, we're out here mastering the art of pranks."

"Well, normal is overrated. Besides, where's the fun in predictability?" you teased.

Without a word,  you leaned in towards her lips, the smirk turning into a smile as you shared a sweet kiss.

She was still definitely pranking you again, but for now,

Natasha: 0 ; Y/n: 2

--

[edoro]

a few things i have noticed:

during the conversation he has with you after the whole deal with Araj Oblodra, Astarion says something along the lines of feeling sick at the idea of "getting on my back for breadcrumbs", and i feel like that's not the only time he uses the specific phrase of "getting on my back," although i could just be mixing up a slightly different dialogue tree from the same conversation

during that same conversation, he says that out of the thousands of people he's slept with, "most of them didn't even grant me temporary bliss"

we hear about/see two former conquests during the game, and both of them are men - one is poor Sebastian, and then the other is the unnamed 'darling boy' who he couldn't bear to bring back to Cazador

putting all of these things together, i believe that the text we're given heavily supports the idea that he primarily (not exclusively, but primarily) went after male victims, that he bottomed for them, and that he rarely orgasmed

and i would like to add my own idea, that the reason for this isn't necessarily that he prefers men but that, given that he was surviving on a starvation diet of rat blood and insects, he just flat out did not have enough blood to get or stay hard enough to penetrate someone

there are still plenty of fun things to do with a pussy that don't require an erection, of course, and i'm sure Astarion is well-practiced at all of them, but practically speaking it's probably a lot quicker, easier, and less likely to lead to potential awkwardness (or, worst of all, someone leaving) to tempt a man into fucking him than risk a woman being upset he can't finish the job - i imagine he dealt with plenty of pressure about what Real Sex was and what people expected from him in those moments

bottoming comes with a built-in excuse for not getting hard - sometimes you just don't! - that men who are used to fucking other men will probably not make too much of a fuss about

i have also noticed that during the two sex scenes with him i've gotten so far where you actually see part of the lead-up (haven't finished the game so i don't know if we only get those three total or if there's another one), he makes a point of playfully picking the player up or pushing the player down so that he's either holding and controlling their body OR he's on top of them

it's part of the flirtation but it's also a pretty clear pattern - he wants to be physically on top and in control!

so, all that being said, i think that Astarion deserves to get to pin Halsin down and stick his dick in a hot, living body for the first time in 200 years and go absolutely feral fucking him until Halsin's the one who comes out of it looking like he was mauled by a bear

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for shutting down a trans man who was maybe just trying to be helpful?

A bit of background: I'm over 25 and I've known I was trans for about 15 years. Despite this, I've had a lot of trouble getting myself to a point where I can reliably afford hormones/surgery. As a result, I've spent that time learning to control what I can and accept what I can't for the time being. I'm not "comfortable" in my skin, but it's a very familiar and sometimes tolerable experience I can handle with some support from my other half for now.

As a downside to this, I have far less tolerance for insecure masculinity, especially from younger trans men who go through a toxic phase.

The actual story: I was trying out a new thing in a friendly, helpful, freelance kind of workspace. Think something like an artist community, not strictly "professional" but somewhat organized. I was trying to make friends to follow to get some mutual support when I posted a picture and a little bit about myself, mentioning that I was trans and was hoping to follow more trans creators.

I got a message from another trans guy (post-op, on T) who was excited to support and get to know each other when I got a follow-up message along the lines of "By the way! You'd look great with a shorter hair cut!"

I didn't really ask and I liked my longer hair so I sent something back akin to "Thanks! I usually keep it short but I'm trying out something different this time!" I checked out his page again just to make sure he wasn't just trolling people but he was supportive of others and posted regularly about himself. I didn't think much of it and went to sleep for the night.

I woke up the next day to a few more messages (that I'm paraphrasing). "It just looks fem right now is all. Did you know they make lifts for the insides of your shoes? They're really comfortable but if you can't afford them you can fold socks under your heels and it gives you another couple of inches of height!"

I tried to answer politely. "I'm not really insecure about that! There are plenty of short guys and guys with long hair!" Honestly I was pissed. I know I don't pass, it isn't my goal right now to pass and the advice felt unsolicited and condescending.

He told me AGAIN that he just wanted to help me "look more masculine, if that was the goal" and sent me a list of shoulder workouts to try with an article about dieting.

I finally told him to hop off my dick, mind his own body and worry about his own presentation because he was projecting his own insecurities on a stranger. I told him I didn't ask for his opinion, that I'm older than he thinks, that I've been out far longer and know all the tricks, I just choose not to present male for others when I can choose my own comfort first, KNOWING who I am.

He replied with a short apology, another "just trying to help" before blocking me. It doesn't bother me at all that he did, but I don't know how gentle I was expected to be when it felt Iike someone was essentially saying something was wrong with me.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[thebest-medicine]

Day 5: "I'm Not Ticklish"

Tickletober 2023 - Our Flag Means Death - lee!Stede, lee!Ed

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

[read on AO3]

A/N: Happy season 2 premiere day! Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!

Words: 784

—

Stede is nearly choking with laughter on the sofa, squirming and kicking as Ed tickles his way down his sides. In desperation for a break, or at least a breath, Stede reaches out wildly toward Edward’s nearby sides. He squeezes.

Ed lets out a little, curious grunt, but he doesn’t flinch away or laugh. “No ya don’t.” He stops tickling briefly to tug Stede’s wrists out of the way. “Won’t work anyway. I’m not ticklish.”

“What?”

“Yup.”

“No way, everyone is somewhere.”

“Not me.” 

“You’re serious? You’re telling me you’re not ticklish?”

“Nope. Not in the slightest.” Edward assures Stede, leaning over him with a smile as the gentleman pirate catches his breath.

“Are- are you kidding me? That hardly seems fair.” Stede complains, smile plastered to his face. He pants, trying to get in a deep breath without laughing it out halfway.

“Don’t know what to tell ya mate. Just ain’t me.”

“Oh, surely at some point- somewhere-”

“Nope. No chance. Never been. Never- am? Was? Never…” Edward trails off, looking up as he tries to think of the proper wording. He closes his eyes and takes a breath, pinching his nose. “Look, bottom line. Blackbeard is not ticklish.” He goes for the most serious tone he can for the conversation they’re (somehow) having.

Stede can’t hide the quirk of a smile on his lips. “Perhaps Blackbeard is not…” He leans forward, feeling bold. “But what about Ed?” Stede clocks the slight falter in Ed’s confident expression and wiggles his fingers in a tease. “Hmm?”

“Same difference. Won’t work.” Ed shrugs - so nonchalant, extremely casual. He definitely does not look at Stede’s hands.

“You don’t mind if I give it a try, then?” Stede grins wider.

Ed snorts at that. He rolls his eyes and purses his lips when he finds Stede watching him with a devious grin. “Be my guest.” He gets up from the couch, standing beside it with his arms outstretched.

Stede rights himself on the couch and sits before him, moving a cautious finger forward to poke at a few different spots along his sides, ribs, belly. The firm touches don’t seem to illicit much of a reaction, just a smug little smirk as he watches Stede’s attempts.

Stede thinks he sees something - or, almost something - when he spiders a hand curiously over Ed’s middle. But, it’s gone just as quick, hidden beneath a veneer of smug stoicism.

Stede complains the whole time. “Not even here?” “Seriously?” “Come on, there has to be at least one spot that will get a laugh out of you.” Each is met with a snarky response.

“Are you done?” Ed asks with a bored shrug. 

“No.” Stede demands. “Sit down.”

Ed gives him a weird look. And then, his smile is back; he laughs a little, “You’re so fucking odd, mate.” He sits down obediently on the couch next to the other man.

Stede reaches down and scoops up his ankles, teetering Blackbeard back haphazardly onto the couch, terribly off-balance. “Hey!” Ed shouts, accusatory.

Stede ignores him, fiddling with his boots. Ed kicks a little, indignant.

Stede turns to look at his disheveled face, lying back on the couch. “What, are you worried about these?” He taunts with a smile.

“I didn’t know you were gonna fucking throw me- but, no, like I said-” Ed banters back. He tries to recall a situation in which someone had ever tried to tickle his feet. Hmm. Plenty of people had tried plenty of times to grab at his sides. He knew the tiny zing to expect and could block it out quite easily. He didn’t really have anything to go off of here.. “I’m not fucking ticklish, so you might as well-”

“Might as well try, hmm?” Stede grins, slipping off one of Ed’s boots.

Fingers zip down Edward’s socked foot experimentally as Stede watches. Ed’s eyes flick straight to his foot, his foot that just twitched under Stede’s fucking touch. Shit.

It’s hopeless to block the bark of a laugh that Ed lets out when Stede flies in with both hands wildly, chasing the tiny flinch in search of further tickle spots. Ed can hear Stede laughing too, triumphant, pleased. 

“You’re such a liar!” Stede chastises with a tease. “You know what we do with liars on this ship?” He’s down to one tickling hand as the other holds Ed’s now captive ankle as it squirms.

“Nohoho-” Ed cackles as fingers scribble under his toes and down the ball of his foot. 

“No? Well, I’d be happy to show you.” He tugs Ed’s sock off in a quick motion, then dives back in to give the laughing captain a taste of his own medicine.

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Eleven

Series Masterlist

Cw: None

By the time Rheana returned to the townhouse, the sun was high overhead, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Her attire was dishevelled from her encounter with the dead general, but her eyes glowed with satisfaction and triumph. Azriel was waiting for her at the entrance of their home, worry etching lines onto his handsome face.

"Are you alright?" he asked immediately, concern lacing each word. He reached out a hand towards her, holding her by her waist, pulling her into the chambers, noting her hands covered in blood.

A smile formed on her face despite what she had done, perhaps because of it, since using her powers energized her in mere seconds. Rheana nodded slowly, taking a moment to catch her breath before speaking. "As good as can be expected," she replied quietly, pushing past him into the house. She made her way straight to the kitchen, needing something strong to drink.

Azriel followed close behind, watching her every move with a protective eye. "What happened? Did you get what you needed?" His voice was steady, not showing any of his feelings. But his shadows that tried to reach for her told her plenty of how nervous he was, wanting to make sure that she was alright

Rheana poured herself a glass of whiskey, gulping it down in one swift motion. The alcohol burned her throat, but it felt good, numbing the edges of her sanity. The burn felt good, a welcome sensation after the darkness she had delved into. "I got what I needed," she confirmed, pouring herself another glass. "The bastard knew nothing about the invasion plans, but he spilled plenty about the Cauldron's location, the king of Hybern has it, along with the feet."

"You should've seen his face when I brought him back," she said, a hint of amusement colouring her voice. "Pure terror. It was exquisite."

Azriel watched her pour another glass, this time allowing her to fill it to the brim before setting it down on the counter. He stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You're sure you're okay?" he asked again, concern evident in his voice.

Rheana sighed, the surge of power rushing in her blood, "Yes, I'm more than okay..." Rheana sipped the straight whiskey, "The power isn't too much anymore."

Azriel's brows furrowed slightly at her words, sensing the subtle shift in her demeanour. He knew all too well the struggles she had faced in mastering her abilities, the danger they posed if left unchecked. "That's good to hear," he said, attempting to sound reassuring. "But remember, we're always here to help you manage it." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping back, giving her space to process her experience. "Now, tell me more about this general. What did you learn?"

"Hybern has the Cauldron, and the legs from the temples where they were hidden," Rheana took her glass and took a seat across the couch, her back rested against on armrest and her legs hanging off the other.

Azriel's brow furrowed, his shadows rubbing small circles on her shoulder. "Are you good?" he asked softly, his gaze searching hers for any sign of distress. "Remember, you don't have to handle everything alone. We're here for you, always."

Rheana looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, she knew he meant himself and his shadows. She set the glass down, turning to face him fully. Her hand slid up his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, her darkness playing with his shadows. "I know," she whispered, her voice husky with want. "And I appreciate it. But sometimes, the darkness inside me needs to be fed, and there's no one better suited to do that than myself."

Azriel sighed slightly, feeling her power through him, "Your darkness doesn't eat you alive anymore?" He asked softly, he was a shadowsinger, the dark sang to him the way it danced to her tunes, that's why they worked, as friends, as the benefits they shared centuries ago when they were young.

Rheana shook her head, her hair cascading around her shoulders. "No, it doesn't," she assured him. "It still craves, but it no longer consumes. And that's progress, right?"

For years now, ever since she had first begun to grasp the true extent of her powers. They had developed a peculiar symbiosis, Azriel providing a conduit for her darkness while she in turn kept his shadows in check. It was a delicate balance, one that required constant communication and understanding between them, but it worked. And so, as Rheana sat beside him now, her fingers trailing over his chest, he knew exactly what she wanted even before she spoke the words, shadows making arrangement for her to rest.

"And what would you need, Rhea?" He asked, his voice low and smooth as silk. His shadows coiled around her, eager to please her darkness, attracted to it after her extensive use of it, while his physical form remained relaxed, basking in the warmth of her touch.

"Sleep... I need to sleep." Rheana sighed, setting the empty glass of whiskey down.

As she slept, her mind wandered freely, creating vivid images and scenarios. In this particular dream, she found herself standing by the riverbank, looking at the young fae male, sitting by the riverside, his long flowing red hair catching the sunlight and making it glow like fire. His amber eyes were focused intently on the water, lost in thought.

He was dressed simply, his clothes made from the finest materials, yet worn and faded from countless days spent outdoors. His posture was relaxed, but there was an air of tension around him, almost as if he carried the weight of the world on his slender shoulders.

His skin was pale his hands were clasped tightly together, knuckles white with the force of his grip. Every once in a while, he would run a hand through his fiery mane, a nervous habit.

Despite his apparent solitude, there was a sense of loneliness surrounding him, a palpable aura of isolation. It seemed as though he was waiting for something, or maybe running away from something. Either way, he appeared to be deeply troubled, his thoughts far away from the serene surroundings.

His presence stirred something within Rheana, a feeling she couldn't quite place. A part of her yearned to approach him, to offer comfort or perhaps find solace in his company. Yet, there was also a sense of caution, a fear of disrupting his solitude.

As Rheana watched the young fae from afar, she felt an inexplicable pull towards him. It was as if their fates were intertwined, despite never having met. She could sense the turmoil brewing within him, the pain and sorrow etched onto his face.

A part of her wanted to reach out, to offer him the comfort and solace she knew he desperately craved. Yet, another part of her cautioned against it, fearing that her presence might only serve to disturb his fragile peace.

Despite the conflicting emotions swirling within her, Rheana found herself drawn closer, her footsteps silent on the grassy bank. She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest, before finally taking a seat beside him, careful not to startle him.

As Rheana reached out to touch the fae's shoulder, her hand passed through him as if he weren't there. The sensation was jarring, leaving her momentarily disoriented. She pulled her hand back quickly, looking at it as if expecting to see some sort of evidence of her attempt. But there was nothing, just her own warm flesh, unmarked and untouched.

The fae didn't seem to notice her presence, remaining seated and seemingly unaware of her attempts to communicate with him. His focus remained fixed on the river, his troubled expression unchanged. Rheana's confusion grew, along with a hint of frustration.

Rheana woke up with a start, her heart racing and her skin drenched in sweat. She sat up abruptly, her dark surroundings slowly coming into focus. The room was shrouded in an inky blackness, her own personal brand of darkness seeping from every corner, coating the walls and furniture in its oppressive embrace. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke and decay, a tangible manifestation of her inner demons.

As she took in the sight of her room, Rheana felt a wave of unease wash over her. This was not normal. Her darkness usually stayed contained, a manageable part of her existence rather than an all-consuming entity.

With practiced ease, Rheana sat cross-legged on her bed, focusing on her breathing. Inhaling, she allowed the strange images from her dream to fill her mind. Exhaling, she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the calming rhythm of her own heartbeat. Again, she inhaled, feeling her power respond to her mental command. Exhaling, she felt the darkness recede, retreating back into the corners of her mind where it belonged.

After several cycles of this meditative practice, Rheana opened her eyes, feeling refreshed and renewed. Her mind was clearer, the oppressive darkness that had engulfed her room earlier now reduced to a mere shadow. The familiar pattern of her bedroom was restored, the comforting scents of lavender and vanilla filling the air once more.

With a satisfied sigh, Rheana stood up, stretching her arms above her head. She felt lighter, freer, as if the burden of her darkness had been temporarily lifted. She walked over to the window, pushing aside the curtains to reveal the moonlit night outside. The stars twinkled like diamonds against the inky blackness of space, a stark contrast to the darkness that lurked within her own soul.

As she gazed out at the celestial display, Rheana's mind wandered back to the dream she had experienced. The young fae with the fiery mane and amber eyes haunted her thoughts.

The following day, Rheana kept mostly to herself, preferring the quiet solitude of her own company over the hustle and bustle of court life. While Feyre and Rhysand ventured to The Prison to visit the bone carver.

The following day offered a much-needed respite from the chaos of the previous days, Rheana spent most of her time alone reading.

"Amren's right," Rhys drawled, as he returned with Feyre, to Rheana, Azrial, Cassian and Mor sitting around. "You are like dogs, waiting for me to come home. Maybe I should buy treats."

Cassian flipped him off from where he lounged on the couch his arm slung over the back behind Mor. There was a tightness to his muscles as he sat, waiting expectantly.

With a chuckle, Rheana set her book aside, leaning comfortably against Azriel as she listened to Rhysand recount his afternoon adventures. She rolled her eyes at his comment about being treated like a pet, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. Cassian's antics brought a laugh from her, her amusement evident in the twinkle in her eyes. Rheana leaned against Azriel, Mor spoke, "How'd it go?"

"The Bone Carver," Rhysand scoffed, "Is a busybody gossip who likes to pry into other people’s business far too much."

Rheana snorted, "What else is new?"

"But?" Cassian asked, bracing his arms on his knees, wings tucked in tight.

"But, he can also be helpful, when he chooses. And it seems we need to start doing what we do best." Rhysand then told them everything, and Rheana added to it, with everything she had learned from the Hybern general.

"Wasn't the general dead?" Feyre whispered when Rheana did.

Rhysand smiled, "My dear sister practicies necromancy."

Rheana gave a shrug as if it was the most normal thing as Feyre gapped at her with an open mouth.

As the conversation continued, Rheana found herself growing increasingly intrigued by Rhysand's account of their visit to The Prison. She couldn't help but wonder what secrets the bone carver held. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to share their darkest secrets with him," she commented, shaking her head in disbelief.

After Rhysand was done, Azriel got up, "I'll contact my sources in the Summer Court about where the half of the Book of Breathings is hidden. I can fly into the human world myself to figure out where they’re keeping their part of the Book before we ask them for it."

"No need," Rhysand denied. "And I don’t trust this information, even with your sources, with anyone outside of this room. Save for Amren."

"They can be trusted," Azriel took his words as an insult on himself.

"We should not be taking risks here," Rheana rested her hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently to calm his tense shoulder.

Azriel paused, looking down at Rheana's touch, his shadows soothing, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He appreciated her gentle touch, the way she understood him without needing to say anything. "Thank you," he murmured, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze in return.

He turned back to Rhysand, his voice steady despite the tension that lingered in the room. "I understand. But I won't sit idly by while you risk yourself unnecessarily."

"I'm aware of that," Rhysand replied, his tone firm yet laced with a hint of warmth. "That's why you're my spymaster. Now, let's discuss how we're going to find the rest of the Book of Breathings."

With that, the discussion turned towards strategy and planning.

"So what do you have planned?" Mor cut in as Rhys picked ay his fighting leathers. When he lifted his head, his violet eyes were icy.

"The King of Hybern sacked one of our temples to get a missing piece of the Cauldron. As far as I’m concerned, it’s an act of war—an indication that His Majesty has no interest in wooing me." Rhysand's voice was cold, his gaze icy as he stared at nothing in particular.

"He likely remembers our allegiance to the humans in the War, anyway," Cassian spoke. "He wouldn’t jeopardize revealing his plans while trying to sway you, and I bet some of Amarantha’s cronies reported to him about Under the Mountain. About how it all ended, I mean."

"Then let us give him exactly what he wants." Rheana said, a dangerous edge creeping into her voice. "We'll take the fight to him. Starting with retrieving the Book of Breathing."

Then the discussion started, of how they would retrieve the halves of the books, one with Tarquin in the Summer Court, the other in the mortal realm with the Queens

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

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[aliliceswonderland]

About Mai, Devil Survivor's cut character

So, imagine one day you're looking for official images of your favs and you find some scans from the artbook. Cool. But then you also find something you didn't expect:

This character is on page 175 of the Devil Survivor: Official Material Collection. If you've played the game, you'll know she doesn't appear anywhere. Her name is Mai.

She is still in the game, in a sense. There's leftover data of her at least in the vanilla version. You can see her battle menu image here at the Spriters Resource between Izuna's and Honda's. Meaning that she was supposed to fight.

And indeed, The Cutting Room Floor has something more to say about it:

She was a magic tank.

But the most important source of information I could find about Mai was the same artbook where I first found her, Devil Survivor: Official Material Collection. There is a translated version of this book, sadly I couldn't find it on the vast Internet, so instead I asked @nenilein to translate a relevant fragment from page 174. The people talking on this fragment are Suzuhito Yasuda (character designer) and Akiko Kotoh (chief designer).

Q: "Are there any characters you ended up cutting? Yasuda: "There was a character who was supposed to contrast Shoji, the journalist. We had already decided her name would be "Mai" and she was going to be a girl who appears at the TV station. Since the her purpose was supposed to be working for you from the side of mass media during an arc concerning intel gathering about the government, we at first had planned to have her debute alongside Shoji, but the more we thought about it the less likely it looked like we could find a good way for the protagonist to get into the TV station, and it became less and less practical to have her in the game at all. In the end we ended up just cutting her." Kotoh: "She was supposed to be a playable character, I remember, at least at the very start." Yasuda: "Yeah, and also, while we didn't end up cutting them, a JSDF soldier and commander duo were also initially planned as playable. At the time we received mixed opinions about the fact that there was a bear stuck to the JSDF soldier's chest, but even even so I never expected that would lead to the character being retooled into an NPC. Kotoh: "And here's another character who wasn't cut, but changed rather suddely, it's the police officer. Originally they were going to be wearing long sleeves, but then I realized the game was set in summer and it would look ridiculous, so we quickly changed it to short sleeves."

There you have it, along with some some other info about no-so-cut characters. By the way, that long-sleeved policeman is in the artbook too, just below Mai. He smol:

So, to recap, Mai was supposed to be a playable character, at least at first, who worked on TV (I forgot to mention it until now, but there's also some text next to her image that directly identifies her as an entertainer 芸能人), knew Shoji and helped you gathering information about the government. That's interesting, but I can see how she was cut.

There's still an arc about uncovering the government's plot in the game, even if doesn't seem as important as it might have originally been. There are plenty of characters who help you gather intel on it: Shoji, Atsuro, 10BIT, Izuna and Fushimi. Media as a form of mass control is an interesting bit to explore that she could've been involved with, but it would have been difficult to do so in a context with no electricity nor signal, and therefore, no radio, TV or Internet. The lines we got from Shoji about the government announcements was the most we could've got.

Lastly, I want to mention another thing I found on TCRF:

I'm hesitant to post this unused e-mail, since it could very well belong to Loki. Despite that, the handle T-STAR... Mai is most likely a TV star. Loki has somewhat of a connection to stars (the star Sirius has been called Lokabrenna, or Loki's torch, in Scandinavia), but I'm not sure if it's enough to justify that handle.

If Mai was the sender of this e-mail, however, that would mean that she knew not only about the government conspiracy (the cover-up of the demons, the UEM field, maybe about the angels...), but also about THE WAR OF BEL?? That's far from the role that was described by the staff, and that's why I'm more inclined to think that Loki, and not Mai, is the one who was supposed to send it. Anyway, I hope you found all of this interesting. Mai may not have been in the game, but I think she's fun to think about and can easily become inspiration for roleplaying or fanfiction. That's why I wanted to compile all the info I could find about her on one post. Have fun with it.

[talesofedo]

I don't know whether this is of interest to anyone (writers? artists?) but here are some wear patterns on a well-loved yukata.

This particular garment is about four years old and made from cotton. I wear this a lot, primarily to sleep in, but also often around the house, especially in summer.

Occasionally I wear it in the backyard doing some light gardening, playing ball with my dog, or for getting the mail from the mailbox at the end of my driveway.

I pretty much only wear this with heko obi (soft obi). I'm not sure whether the wear pattern in the waist would be much different with the stiffer kaku obi.

The heaviest amount of wear is to the sleeves, particularly to the sleeve openings and the armpits.

I don't know how many times I've managed to snag the sleeve openings on something.

Maybe I'm more klutzy than the average person (though I don't think so?), but it's so easy to snag them on things in a modern house. Some places I've encountered specifically include: the stairway banister, the kitchen island, and assorted door knobs.

I expect there would be plenty of things one might snag their sleeves on during the Edo period as well, such as the handles or corners of andon lamps, for example, or bamboo fences.

The armpits tear surprisingly easy. Every so often I've caught my hand on the sleeve doing things like getting up if from bed or from sitting on the floor, and putting that pressure on the sleeve then rips the stitches in the armpit.

Interestingly, I've found that the collar likes to fold over on itself after washing, and the white line you see here is wear and tear along the collar's folded-over edge.

That wear would normally be found at the actual edge of the collar, which will start to fray and disintegrate just from the friction of everyday wear.

I'll probably replace the entire collar on this one day if I don't choose to just keep patching it.

One thing I found interesting about wear patterns are these two spots at the back, just underneath the collar on either side.

However, these make sense if you look at how a kimono drapes when it's worn.

In the picture below, which is from an NHK story, you can see how the sleeve basically drapes from the top of the shoulder, on either side of the collar. Over time, that causes wear to those spots and can cause them to thin or wear through, as it did on mine.

[goldenempyrean]

Coffee Shop

❥ Valentines Drabbles: Day 7

❥ Pairing: Sick Florence x Reader

❥ Wordcount: 835

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Florence tapped her foot as she waited in line, patiently rereading the menu as she awaits her inevitable order. She's got a very specific order and she gets it every time she visits. She loves this little coffee shop, something about the cosy aesthetics drew her to the place, plus it helped that the shop was local to her house too. Plus, there was the added bonus that she’d get to see her favourite barista with every visit.

Only this time she can't exactly focus on her order, something else is bothering her. The drumming of her fingers against the counter is the same as the drumming in her temples. It’s been there ever since she woke up. An early-morning trip to a coffee shop was the only place where Florence expected she could find silence. But on this particular day, even the silence felt too loud

“Flo?” Came the sound of your voice as you recognised her from across the counter, her eyes looking up to meet your welcoming smile, “How’ve you been? It feels like ages since you last stopped by!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that! I’ve just been super busy lately, been away on set a lot.” She responded, trying her best to mimic her usual chippy voice but the fatigue thick in her words betrayed her efforts.

You frowned a little at her voice. It sounded strained, almost painful, “You alright there? You sound a little off”

She chuckled a little, “Yeah, just a little. I'm okay, just a little bit of a sore throat.”

“Awh, make sure you get plenty of rest then. Am I getting you the usual?”

Florence coughed a little into her elbow, “Yes please, that’d be great.”

You went forward to grab a cup for Florence’s usual chai latte but stopped. You knew she needed something else, something soothing, something like- Aha!

As you finished making her drink you hear Flo muffle such a deep and husky cough that, if you didn't know better, you'd think she was choking. But from the way she turns her head and rubs her throat you could tell it was causing her some discomfort. So, you speedily finished making her drink, sliding the cup over the counter towards her.

“There you go.” You said with a smile.

“I thought I ordered the usual?” Florence asked curiously as she took a hesitant sip of the steaming cup of tea in her hand and to surprise, it was just what she needed. Instantly she could feel some relief from the soreness at the back of her throat.

You smiled as you saw the look of relief gently wash across her features and the subtle glint of gratitude in her eyes, “I thought the tea would be better for you, help fight off that cold of yours.”

“It does feel amazing against my throat,” Florence admitted as she cradled the cup in her hands, “Thank you so much, how much do I owe you?”

You smirked as you gave her a little wink, “It’s on me, don’t worry about it.”

Her smile of thanks is genuine. She can't help but feel a lightness in her chest. A softness in her soul to see someone care so much. "You're far too kind... I can make this up to you somehow.” She says, her smile widening as she gently shifts her hands along the rim of the mug. A tinge of embarrassment creeps into her cheeks as she thinks of her own body, and the favour you so easily gave her without hesitation or demand for recompense.

You shook your head, “All you need to do is get yourself better, that’s all I ask.”  

“Seriously Y/N you don’t know how much this means to me. Is that really all you want?”

“Yup, that’s all.” You smirked but you couldn’t help but fidget with your fingers as a certain idea toyed with your thoughts. If this worked then it could change your life forever and on the other hand, if it backfired miserably then you may just lose the one reason why you loved your job. With a deep, steading breath you composed yourself and reached out the grab a napkin. Using the pen from your top pocket, you quickly scribbled down a message onto it.

Florence looked at you curiously for a moment but still turned to leave, “I guess I’ll be going then-“

“No! Wait.” You hesitated for a moment but before you knew it, you picked up the napkin and handed it to her, note side down, “Theres one more thing I want.”

She opens the note and her eyes widen as she reads the message. Her cheeks flush with a shade of red that slowly crawls down her neck. "Oh... you’re really asking me this?”

You nodded, a little nervous to speak at first, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want- I just thought- of course it’d be once you’re feeling better but-“

“Y/N, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

...and that’s how it happened. That’s how you found yourself dating the Florence Pugh. It’d been years since that fateful day and still that little napkin sat framed just beside her bed. An eternal reminder of the day you showed courage... the best day of her life.

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[dema-heart]

A Present For You🎁

Hobie x gn! SpideyReader

A holiday party at your place! 😘🎁

And a face reveal!

lol I had no intentions of hiding really so why not use my Christmas get up as an excuse!

"Hobie! Come on, you're late!" You huffed as you dragged hobie through the door past miles, gwen, pav, and mayday all sitting around in your living room. You guys had given Peter and MJ the option of a nice Christmas Eve date.

"Oi, no need to rip my arm off! I told you not to wait up!" Hobie huffed as you dragged him to your bedroom, closing the door before finally letting go. He could hear the laughter and giggles of the other as you walked over to the bed.

"Yeah I know but I had picked out an outfit for you to wear tonight!" There was a spark in your eyes as you showed him the laid out clothes. He almost didn't care what they were as long as it made you this happy just at the idea of him wearing them.

You smiled brightly up at him as he looked the outfit over in silence. "Hobs? You dont have to wear it...I just picked them up last time I was out because i thought they'd look good on you.." Your smile faltering a bit at his silence, you looked away from him, biting your lip nervously to keep from over explaining.

"Hobie really... it's fine. I shouldn't have....HOBIE OH MY GOD!" Your whole body turned quickly as you faced away from him. Too quickly. You stumbled, falling backward only for him to catch you.

You look up startled eyes wide as you take in his smirking face and currently shirtless body. You squeak,jumping away from him, almost falling again if not for catching yourself on the door. You lean against it, face hot with embarrassment as you hear Hobie chuckle behind you, only flustering you more.

"You know...." he's behind you now, slightly leaned so he can talk into your ear. "You've seen me shirtless plenty of times." His voice is laced with amusement and a bit husky, which you refuse to acknowledge.

"Shut up! I panicked, okay!" You groan, banging your head against the door. "I didn't expect you to just start stripping!"

Hobie's hand comes to rest on your forehead, protecting you from a possibly embarrassing red spot to explain."Dont want you hurting yourself now."

"Thank you," you mumbled, rubbing your slightly aching forehead, finally calm enough to stand up but still facing the door.

"You're welcome, love." Seeing as you hadn't turned around yet, he shifted away, going back to putting on the outfit you'd picked for him.

After a moment of silence, Hobie speaks. "You know you're the one who closed the door and told me to change,right?" He teased, snickering as you grumbled something along the lines of shut up again.

Secretly, he was excited. He wasn't sure how to react at first seeing the time and thought you put into a simple Christmas outfit for him, which was the reason for his silence. He smiled softly as he got changed,not that you could see still turned to the door much to his amusement.

He took the time to look in your mirror once he was dressed, he admired the way the clothes looked on him not really an outfit he'd have picked out himself but still he felt comfortable and like himself in them.

"You can turn around now, doll. I'm all dressed and proper for you."

You huffed at his words before turning around.

"Ahhh, Hobie you look so good!" You yelled, moving over to him to excitedly check him out.

Your smile was blinding as you looked him up and down. You even made him do a little spin before looking into his eyes.

"Do you like it?" You grinned up at him, but your eyes wavered a bit.

"Only asking that after I became a living doll for you?" He raised an eyebrow, but the grin on his face told you he wasn't offended.

"I didn't make you a living doll. This was just part one of your gifts." You rolled your eyes, smiling at the small shocked look on his face.

"There's more than this?" He gestured to his clothes, and you nodded quickly.

"Of course! Now come on, everyone's waiting!" You move to leave, opening the door only to see the arachkids scrambling around the corner.

"What are yall up to?" You called out only getting snickers as a response. You smile, shaking your head before feeling hobie come up behind you.

"What's going on?" Hobie peaks from behind you as you're still blocking the door.

"Not sure. I just watched those three book it around the corner laughing. Are you getting any of your spider tingles?" You laugh as you hear him tsk and grumble something along the lines of its not spider tingles its spider sense. You happened to be one of the few spider-folk without these so-called spidey tingles and found it quite hilarious to tease them about it. You still had a version, but it was more like enhanced instincts than danger sense.

"No, my spider sense isn't going off. They were probably just ease dropping. You know they've been trying to get us together for months now. I keep telling them I'm trying my best here. " He smirks, wiggling his brows at you.

"Oh shut up, I planned on telling them today. I just wanted to make sure we were both comfortable first." You respond, rolling your eyes with a playful grin as you finally step out into the hall.

"You gonna tell them the whole story or the summarized version?" He teased, chuckling as you glared at him over your shoulder before walking away in embarrassment.

You two had been in a secret, not so secret relationship for about a week now. You'd been tip toeing around each other for months before that, unsure of what this was, but knowing you two were content and comfortable with whatever the other was giving. You had only stepped up and asked him to be with you when another spider person had asked you if he was single, and you boldly claimed you were dating. Only for them to confirm with Hobie later, who had shrugged much to your annoyance. So you asked him out then and there glaring down the other spider, fangs bared and all. And boom, you were dating, and only one person knew, and they were currently too scared to even look in your direction, let alone talk about you.

"Don't be like that! You know I think you're cute when you're angry" He called after you only making you walk faster, finally turning the corner to the living room with hobie right behind you.

"STOP! DON'T MOVE" You both freeze suddenly on guard when pav screams at you two. It's silent as you two scan for any threats. Gwen and Miles are next to him, grinning like crazy. Pavitr is doing air fist bumps and watching you two with the same grin the others have. And mayday is...where's mayday...had she webbed away again or climbed... suddenly, there's giggling and babling above you.

Confused, you look up, only to see Mayday sitting on your roof with mistletoe in her hands. She's grinning down at you two, and you turn to look at the obvious culprits of this scheme.

"Really guys? You roped sweet Mayday into a mistletoe prank?" The three shrug smiling faces showing a lack of sympathy for their actions.

"It was worth a shot. Gives you two a reason to finally act on all that tension." Gwen says, pulling out her phone definitely not to record her current favorite ship and two pinning friends,"first kiss. "

"Cupids a baby who shots arrows of love! Plus, what's Christmas without a mistletoe kiss!" Miles states while holding your Polaroid up, ready to catch the moment, and now it makes sense why he had asked to see it using the excuse of saving Christmas memories for the day.

"You guys are meant to be,okay, and if I had to use help from mayday to get you two on the same page, then so be it. It was either this or lock you in a closet. Gwen and Miles were the ones that suggested mistletoe instead." pav shrugs.

"Very funny, guys." You roll your eyes pretending to be annoyed, but the smile on your face gives you away. You go to step forward only to feel hobie's web tug you back.

Shocked, you turn around, hobie's leaning on the wall, a smug grin on his face as he points up to the still grinning Mayday who's waving the mistletoe around.

"You know the rules, luv. We gotta kiss, or it's bad luck or somin. Wouldn't want that now, would we?" There's mischief in his eyes as he crosses his arms, waiting for your move.

You can hear the three cheering behind you, and one of them, probably gwen, quickly hushes them.

"Hobie..." You stare at him, waiting for him to crack a joke and walk away or anything but gives you that soft longing look with a small smile on his face as he looks at you.

"Yes, sugarplum?" You smile at the switch to the Christmas nickname, knowing he's giving you an out by using the cheesy nickname.

Sighing exaggeratedly with a sweet smile on your lips you step foward watching the way he stands up straight, the way he searches your face to make sure your okay, and the way his red painted nails that'd you'd done for him twitch with the urge to reach out and hold you like he normally would leading to a kiss.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaving a bit of space between you two. His hands on on your waist almost instantly tugging you flush with him before he's leaving down. Your eyes close head already titling to prepare for his kiss.

The press of his lips to your forehead has you opening your eyes and looking up at him a little disappointed. You furrow your brows, looking at him, the question written all over you face. He smiles, looking behind you at the three who are currently booing, before leaning down to whisper so only you can hear.

"Never said it had to be a kiss on the lips...unless that's what you were looking for, sugarplum" He whispers the word against your lips smirking playfully, just close enough they brush and you have to hold in your pout not used to hobie withholding his affections.

"Just kiss me already, jerk." You tug him in, making sure to press your lips against his before he could move or tease anymore.

The kiss is sweet and slow, just you two holding each other tight as your lips moved against one another's. The cheers behind you tuned out in favor of just feeling Hobie against you. The way his hands bunched your sweatshirt as he locked his hands and you in place. The way his neck was warm under your hands hinting to just how flustered he actually was by this. The way his lips pressed against yours in sweet, passionate kisses as he pulled away both your eyes opening to stare into the others.

Mayday's giggles once again brought you back, your ears suddenly picking up on the sound of her little hands unsticking. you step back from hobie, catching her quickly as she laughs and babbles, dropping the mistletoe to instead grab at you.

"Alright, alright let's get to the snacks! How does that sound Mayday?" You baby talk her, bringing your focus on her to hide how flustered you are and to dodge the other three's reactions to the kiss.

You spare a quick glance to Hobie, who's back to leaning against the wall and smiling at you with a lovesick look. You send him a shy smile back before hurrying to the kitchen.

As soon as you're out of sight, the arachkids surround Hobie. Asking if that was enough for him to finally make a move and ask you out. Hobie who was still looking in the direction you'd walked off to finally turned to them thinking for a second before breaking into a shit devious grin.

"The only move I could make now is marriage. I don't think we're ready for that yet" although the thought of marrying you didn't sound so bad...he shook his head as the three started at him in shock.

"Hobie..what do you mean?" It was miles this time who spoke up coming back quicker then the other two.

"Means, we're already dating, not sure what other moves to make when they asked me out last week." He shrugged, acting nonchalant but grinning hard as their shocked looks doubled.

You rounded the corner with the snacks and some cups of hot chocolate mayday current attached to your chest with webbing. All head turn to you and you freeze confused.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US!!?!?" The three shout as you look over to Hobie, who nods, giving you a small smile as he walks putting an arm across your shoulder.

"It's a Christmas miracle?" You give a sheepish grin knowing you're in for a long night of explaining, but the arm around your shoulder and the kiss to the top of your head is totally worth it.

[angel-shaw]

First draft of my Magnus Archive Fic!

This is the first “chapter” of my first TMA fic:) I am still working on it and I haven’t edited this at all yet but I really want some input and praise:3

I started this fic off of a dream that my TMA obsessed bf begged me to wright. I haven’t reached the main part that I am super excited about yet so expect more! For those who read this let me know if I should post this as a multi chapter fic and post this rn to Ao3 or if I should wait till I am done with it:)

Summary - Tim and John are trapped in a concrete room inside the Achrives, Nether knows what happened or how to get out so they have no choice but to sit in their together. (Takes place after season 1 and definitely before season 3, might make it so Sasha is fine because I can )

Currently at 8016 words:)

Tw: being trapped, paranoia, etc kinda stuff (lemme know if more needs to be tagged :). )

“Tim,” John said, shaking his counterpart.

“Tim you need to wake up, food is ready and you need to eat it hot.”

Underneath several thick blankets John heard heard tim mumble something along the lines of

‘I’m cold, fuck off.’

John sighed.

“I know your cold Tim but the warm food will help with that, please i don't want to fight you on this every time.”

The blankets shuffled quickly and John flinched back as Tim pulled the blankets down from his, very tired looking, face.

“Then don't! Leave me be! Why do you even care John? It's not like anything can be done about this so why not do what you've always done and either leave me alone or go speculate about whether or not I'm some possessed version of myself who will randomly decide to try and kill you for some obscure reason only you understand in a corner?!”

John stood frozen for a few seconds as Tim glared at him. When Tim started to shiver despite the blankets it snapped John out of his stupor. Instead of responding he instead held a hot bowl of soup out for Tim to take.

“This should help,” John whispered as Tim frowned.

It took a minute but Tim shifted to prop himself against the wall and took the bowl.

John took his own bowl and sat a little ways away from Tim as they both ate in silence.

This was their routine, minus Tims outburst normally. For the last 2 weeks Tim and John have been trapped in this room. It reminded John of the archival room without the shelves and boxes of statements. A stone room with no windows and only one door. John couldn't even remember how he and Tim had gotten there. He couldn't explain why they were stuck in there and even less of a clue where the food and resources came from. It felt like some kind of thing fucking with them. Giving them what they need to survive but not to get out.

At first he and Tim argued a lot, both scared and confused. Johns added paranoia didn't help that ether and seeing as how they were stuck together now 24/7 they had plenty of time to fight. That was until Tim started to get sick, it was so easy for John to notice the change. Tim started to shiver, at times John could even hear his teeth chattering. He stopped moving around the room and just stayed curled up under his blanket. One night John had waited till Tim had fallen asleep and threw his own blanket on top of Tims shivering form. The days following John had asked Tim if he was alright but was met with hostility. And that's how it had been the past week and a half. When Tim stopped eating John took it upon himself to make sure Tim had food to eat. He noticed when he ate Tim stopped shivering for a time so he made sure there was almost always a hot food for Tim to have when he started to violently shiver.

John and Tim rarely talked because it seemed it could only lead to another fight. So the silence the two fell into well eating no longer felt awkward.

When Tim placed his bowl down onto the stone floor he immediately withdrew into the two blankets.

“Do you want more?”

A muffled mumble.

Because John couldn't hear him he decided to move closer. He scooted up to the blanket and leaned down.

“What was that?’’

The entire blanket flinched and before he knew it a flash a pain shot through his nose. John flinched back and cried out, bringing his hands up to his face.

John's eyes were shut tight and he could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids. He was too preoccupied feeling a hot wet liquid start to run down his hands and wrists to notice Tim and sat up and threw the blankets off of himself.

“Oh holy shit! John, I didn't realize you got so close. What the hell where you doing?! Shit are you ok? Oh holy fuck thats alot of blood. Shit shit SHIT! Here uhh just, just stay here. I'll go and find something, oh fucking hell theres so much blood’” Tims rant could barely be heard by John who was still sitting in shock and pain.

A few seconds later John felt Tims strong hands envelope his own, distantly he could hear Tims voice. It sounded…calmer than usual? No, not calmer… nicer.

“John come on, lemme see.”

John could feel his head shake, there weren't any real thoughts going through his mind really so he didn't know why.

“Hey come on, I kinda know how to fix it….a little…I won't make it worse at least.”

John felt his head shake harder. He really needed to stop doing that. It made his head hurt and him feel dizzy.

“Come on John, please let me help.”

Finally John let Tim pull his hands down, his eyes still shut tight and still in an immense amount of pain.

“Shit…Ok here,” Tim's voice was quiet as he started wiping around the nose, clearing some of the blood before holding it to John's face firmly.

“See that's not too bad right? We got this…no problem.”

Tim took a deep breath, “Ok John can you hear me?”

Again John could distantly feel himself nod, nothing felt real.

“Good, good. Ok so this next bit is gonna sting like a bitch right? It will be over quick though ok? Can I?”

Another nod, what was he even agreeing to?

And then the grasp on the cloth over his nose became much firmer before there was a loud crack and a fresh wave of pain with an overwhelming nausea flowing through him.

“Fuck!”

He could hear a lot clearer now, so much so that he could hear the hiss of Tim sucking air through his teeth.

“See,” Tim meekly tried, “Wasn't too bad ay?”

John finally opened his eyes, he could still feel how wet they were and to his displeasure he could feel that wetness stream down his face. Tim was still sat in front of him holding his nose with a weird look on his face.

It was a look John couldn't quite place, he had never been the best at reading people. Somehow always coming to the seemingly worst concussion possible.

“You ok John?”

Tims voice was quite soft, it was something John had noticed. Whenever Tim spoke to others, others like the random people who visited the archive or the food attendees at the outings he was forced to go on. He would question why talking to Tim made those people feel better, or at least good judging by their smiles. Now that that softness was directed at him he understood why those peoples smiles got bigger. He wanted Tim to keep talking to him like that.

“John?”

John looked up at Tim, still in shock from Tim REBREAKING HIS NOSE.

“Did you just break my nose..?”

Tim shifted uncomfortably, “Ya I'm sorry, I had to set it so it won't heal wrong…”

“That really hurt, like a lot….It still really hurts”

“Here just hold the cloth to it for now and the bleeding should stop soon, plus the pressure might help with the pain. It's what i did when i broke my nose”

John stared at Tim increadisully but talking moved his nose and made it hurt more so he decided to stay quiet.

Until he looked down and saw how much blood there was everywhere.

—----------

Tim watched as he saw John's breathing get faster, his eyes were huge as he looked at his hands and arms. The blood was still wet and dripping down his arms to the stone floor.

“John?”

No response from him, John didn't even look up at him.

“Jonathan, man are you ok?”

Again, no response. Faster breathing, it was starting to freak Tim out. Was John having a panic attack? Sure Tim had seen plenty, hell just working at the Archive meant a lot of people who were giving statements had a lot of them. John though, he was always so…well not really confident but he held himself in a way that made him seem untouchable.

Tim had seen him with his paranoia but it was never like this, he was always looking for a way to fix whatever he was paranoid about, even if he was bluntly wrong and being stupid. This…this was so different. John was panicking, worse than the panic Tim had seen during the Worm incident. Why was a broken nose worse than a worm burrowing itself into his skin?????

“John!”

Nothing.

“John, look at me.”

Tim was still holding the cloth, John had never reached his hands back up to take it himself. He was too busy…working himself into a panic attack???

Tim used that to his advantage, he tilted John's head up until his eyes shot to him.

“It's ok, you're ok. Nothing really happened right? You're all good. The pain will go away soon, you just need to breathe.”

John shook his head and looked back down at his hands.

“Is…is it the blood freaking you out?”

John didn't reply but as Tim contoured to follow his eyes he was pretty sure he was right.

“Shit ok, umm here, John.. John!”

John startled to look back up at Tim, he really did look panicked. Shit….

“Look John, just close your eyes ok? I'll take care of it. Come on, just close them. I'm not going anywhere…it's not like i can really, But I swear i'll take care of it”

John finally squeezed his eyes shut again, his breathing was still way too fast but it seemed like he was trying to calm that down so that was good.

Tim wasn't quite sure what to do after that. Now that he knew what the major problem was he should try to fix it right? But he was still holding on to John's nose so he couldn't go to the sink to get anything to help so what the hell was he going to do?

It was really cold out from his blankets, not as cold as before but still. He might fight John on it but the warm food really did help. John was so confusing, one day he was acting like Tim would snap and go on a random killing spree and now he was…trying to help him? It didn't make any sense.

Then Tim had an idea.

“Hey John, can you stand up?”

John nodded his head slowly.

“Ok good, well I need you to stand, I'll be right here k? You don't have to open your eyes, i'll lead you where we need to go.”

John nodded again. It took another moment for John to try to start standing, he almost fell and grabbed onto tims arms to stabilize himself.

Shit he has a weak ass grip-

“Hay it's alright,” Tim said quietly, “You can hold onto me.”

John's hands somehow ended up on Tims side as he stood, the two of them stood there letting balance be regained before struggling to move around the room.

—-----------

It was hard to stay standing with his legs shaking but he could feel Tims free hand helping to hold him up as they shuffled somewhere.

Where were they going? It couldn't be far of course, the two had stuck in this one room for what felt like so long now. Unless Tim had been lying and he had known a way out this entire time. What if all this was a plan?

No he was being unreasonable, he knew Tim. Tim wouldn't.

Before he could think anymore on it he heard tims muffled voice again.

“Ok I'm gonna lean you again here kk? Just lean here and I'll clean you up.”

John just nodded again.

See? He thought to himself. Tims good, Tim wouldn't lie like that. As prickly as he had been he hadn't done anything wrong and he was stuck here too.

Jonathan had always struggled with paranoia, he always needed someone or something to blame for everything. Even if it was himself that at least gave it a reason to happen, it gave an explanation he could wrap his head around. But when something he didn't understand or explain happened he always tried to reasonably put the blame onto someone. That someone just tends to be who else was with him. Even hard evidence against his accusation did little to rest his mind.

It had gotten worse over the years, working at the institute had started to help. Sure the stuff he knew was real was terrifying and he wished it were not, hense his dismissal of the cases, but they gave explanations. It gave him an odd sense of calm, knowing that. But the second something happened that he couldn't explain, something that just possibly could have been one of his coworkers, he fell deep into a rabbit hole of mistrust and dishonesty. His pariona got so bad, he knew it affected his coworkers in negative ways, because they told him. Tim expressly got fed up with his actions.

In the time Tim and himself had been stuck John had started to try and think his way through his paranoia. That was hard when his tactic was to blame something and the only thing he could think of at first was the one he was trapped with. But eventually he noticed his parinona of Tim go down. It really started when he noticed how sick Tim had gotten. It sprung something in his mouse brain that it just couldn't be Tims fault, Tim was sick and needed help. It started to override his paranoia.

At least of Tim. Everything else though was fair game. The vent? Something was in it. The wall? More worms.

There were multiple nights where John stayed up and checked every coroner of the room for something, anything. But night after night he found nothing.

Now everytime he had some paranoid thought about Tim it seemed so much easier to work through it. It was a nice change, being able to work through it.

And now Tim was running warm water and slowly wiping John's own blood off of him. Honestly John was surprised Tim didn't just leave him sitting there on the floor in his own panic bubble. But distantly, he knew Tim wouldn't do that, couldn't. Tim was so kind, even when they yelled at each other Tims concern for John seemed so obvious. Though the anger and everything, it was still clear Tim was worried about John. Just like he was worried for everyone else.

John could feel the warm cloth down his arm, it was soothing. Tim was still holding his nose, it must have been getting annoying.

So John lifted the arm Tim wasn't currently working on and tried to take the cloth himself. His eyes were still closed but he could swear he heard Tim jump when his hand touched his.

“ i can hold it..,’’ John said quietly. It felt like talking too loudly would break whatever was happening right now. And John didn't want that.

—------------

Tim was in fact shocked when John's hand grabbed his own, he was so focused on trying to get the blood off with only one hand that it caught him off guard.

But he let John hold up the cloth and was finally able to use both hands. John's breathing had evened out a lot, Tim hadn't noticed at first but as he worked he could feel John taking long deep breaths. It was the first time Tim had actually seen John even try to self regulate.

That was one thing about John that pissed Tim off, it always seemed as though he just let his pariona dictate everything. He never even seemed to try and reason anything, just letting the fear take over and start running everything. It was good to know John COULD chill himself out a bit.

Tim continued to wash John’s arm off before rinsing the cloth and continuing. There really was a lot of blood, it was suppressing John hadn't fainted or something. Sure when he stood he was wobbly as all hell but being dizzy was expected.

The two of them stood in silence for a while, Tim at one point lifting John's free hand up to hold the cloth so he could clean the other but it was a comfortable silence.

John's eyes, despite still being closed, looked much more relaxed than just a few minutes prior. Granted the dark circles that came with a broken nose were starting to show, Tim frowned at that even after his nose had healed those bruises would probilly stay there for quite a while. Tim thought about it for a second longer, overall they weren't too much different from John's massive eyebags he had all the time. Given the nights Tim knew he had been staying up just walking around the room muttering to himself.

That was another thing about John Tim noticed, he talked to himself a lot. Not in a creepy way like in movies, ok well sometimes, but mostly it felt like he was just trying to think. Like just saying his thought process out to make sure it sounded right. There was once he had heard one of John's tangests when he thought he alone and John had said something, stopped and said “well that didn't make sense” it was quite funny. Probably would have been funnier if Tim hadn't been so upset with him at the time.

Only when John's arms were clean did Tim break the silence.

“Here John, your arms are clean. Lemme see if the bleeding stopped.”

John still didn't say anything, just wincing as Tim pulled the bloody rag away from his face.

Tim winced, “Ya…no keep that there im gonna get some toilet paper.”

As he walked away Tim heard John mutter something under his breath so he wheeled himself around on his heel. He felt himself getting angry, he was trying to help him and John was still making comments and shit?? God this was why he stopped respecting him, all his damn paranoia and bullshit.

“What.” It wasn't really a question, whatever John’s answer he wasn’t going to like it. So technically it could be considered a trap.

John of course didn’t notice the massive shift in Tims face as his eyes were closed, but he did hear the change in his voice.

“Thank you, I said, this hurts, a surprising amount actually. I don’t think I’d know what to do if you weren’t helping me….so thank you”

For once, for once in the entire damn time Tim had known him, John said something right.

Tim immediately felt stupid for getting mad so quickly. He might not understand what the hell John’s switch up was about but it pissed him off.

“Right.”

Even if he was wrong he was still annoyed, none of this made sense, if anything John suddenly tried to help him or whatever this upset him more. Hell the only reason he was helping him right now was because he panicked once he heard the crack of John’s nose.

—-------------

John held his nose until Tims bigger hands pulled his own away. Quickly John felt the wads of toilet paper touch him as Tim tried to shove them up his still bleeding nose.

As it stood, his nose still hurt like hell evidently. So John flinched hard, abruptly pulling back from Tim. Even more unfortunately, the sink he was leaning most of his weight on was not big. So when he flipped back he had thrown his weight into….well nothing.

All the shit people said about falling in slow motion, was in fact just that, shit. John didn't have any time to process he was even falling before he felt Tims arms wrap around his waist. John by all definition was a small man, he knew that, but when Tims arms were so solidly wrapped completely around his waist he /felt/ small.

“Shit! Fuck I'm sorry are you good? Well obviously not, fucking duh. Shit here, Im just gonna….uhh…I'm gonna get you over on the chair that way you don't rocket yourself on the floor ya?”

Johns face was burning again, strangely not just around his nose, but it must have been from irritating it. He made and tried to help make it at least not a struggle to move him, which was hard considering his legs were not planted on the ground, tangled between Tims.

Somehow Tim was able to move him without ended with both of them on the floor. John's only real thought during the short journey was that Tim didn't radiate heat like most did, he wasn't cold per say but he missed the warmth someone would expect.

“Damn you're warm, you know that?”

“Hmm?”

John was pulled from his thought by Tims comment’ “I think you’re just cold”

Tim sat John down on the wooden chair.

Tim rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, “ nah I think it's you”

John hadn't realized it but he had finally opened his eyes. His own arms weren't covered in blood thanks to Tim. Tims arms however were not so clean. He had been trying to help John stop freaking out and gotten blood, John's blood, all over him.

“Oh shit! Right, you're still bleeding; give me a sec!”

John honestly hadn't noticed his nose still leaking blood down his face until Tim reminded him, he lifted his hand to catch the blood but before his could Tim was back and stopping him.

“Put your damn hand down. I just cleaned your amsnup I don't need you fucking that up already. Ok it looks like I set it ok so it should be good.”

“Ya did hurt a lot by the way”

“Ya I know, I'm sorry. I mean if you would have rather it healed in the wrong place we could have left it but I figured if I just did it then…” Tim trialed off, he had an odd look on his face.

“ No no,that was uh fine. It hurt though. How did you know to do that? I figure it's not something you just picked up from tv….at least I hope not.” John tried to joke, but he really really hoped that Tim didn't just do that just because of a bad tv show.

“Haha ya, I umm, I broke my nose quite a lot as a kid so I learned how to handle it. If I'm being honest I did originally try it because of the show…it was a really bad cop sitcom that I watched all time.”

“You watched sitcoms?” It genuinely caught John off guard, he expected Tim to watch a bunch of horror or something like that.

“There a problem with that?”

“No no of course not, I just… didn't expect it”

—------------------

As they talked Tim noticed that it seemed to draw Johns attention away from his injury. Would he normally talk about stuff like this to him? No of course not, hell if he tried John probably would have had a paranoid delusion about it or something and accuse Tim of being a clone or some shit like that.

But if tim helped keep him calm, and he wasn't going to freak out over it, fine.

He started to clean Johns face as he talked. He tilted John's face back and actually managed to get the paper in his nose without a mass spasm this time.

“Ya, normally it's not my kind of thing but I watched it a lot when I was younger. The….uh..guys I hung out with could tolerate it and it didn't make me cry so it was always on. Heh, I love the show. It's actually pretty funny, not accurate but I get enough action with cops nowadays that I don't need accuracy about ‘em” Tim laughed.

He could see John's smile, Tim distantly thought it would be better without all the blood.

“That's…nice. ,my grandmother wished I would get into a show. It could never keep my attention for long. I was better with books.”

This was weird, this entire thing was weird. John being civil and…nice. The two of them talking casually about things Tim had never told anyone. It wasn't like Tim was telling John everything that was part of it but John now knew more than anyone else and it was so casual. The two of them had been stuck in this place for what, 2 weeks now? And now here the two of them were, talking after Tim had broken his nose.

“Never had the time to read books, I uh, got busy alot so shows where a lot easier you know?”

“That's fair enough.”

Tim finished cleaning John's face and backed up,” there you go, you gonna have raccoon eyes for a while.”

John's head tilted to the side, holy shit he looked like a….a confused puppy.

“Racoon eyes?”

Tim laughed, he couldn't help it, “ ya when you brake your nose for the first time you get bruised around your eyes and they look like the face of a raccoon. It hurts but it looks cool once they heals a bit. I probably still have a picture of me with ‘em somewhere actually.”

John already had the circles forming around his eyes, they were gonna get a lot darker in the next few hours but they should clear up pretty quick.

“I see, well thank you for telling me. I'm sure it would have been quite a nasty shock to see that in the mirror with no warning.”

“Ooooooh ya” Tim laughed’ “ the first time it happened to me the guy who broke my nose had to burst into the bathroom to see why I was sobbing after I saw, God that was a daaaay. Hurt like a bitch.”

Tim saw Johns frown, he obviously saw the problem in Tims word and for a second Tim really thought he was going to ask and he would have to shut the entire conversation down because he fucked it up.

But instead John just kept it going, “ Well I'll try to keep my shock to a minimum to not startle you then.”

Tim smiled.

—------------

John saw the change in Tims demeanor when he had said that, if there was one thing John was good at t was avoiding conversations. Sure he was curious and a little worried but it wasn't any of his business. It was Tims life and childhood, whatever had happened he was fine now so there wasn't any need to push it.

It was then when John saw the blood on Tims shirt. It made Johns chest tighten, that was one of Tims favort shirts, and quite frankly one of the only peaces of clothing's he hadn't the moment well trapped in the room.

“Oh Tim your shirt…”

Tim looked down, apparently also having forgotten he was covered in Johns blood.

“Damn it! Oh fuck that sucks. I don't think I have another shirt clean…”

John had been cleaning what he could and for some reason it seemed that the cloths they put in the laundry basket occasionally got cleaned but it seemed to be at random times and if Tim said he didn't have another he didn't.

“Damn…I liked this shirt to. Ya think I’ll be able to get the blood out?”

Tim was back to rubbing his neck, like it was a nervous habit or something. Most of the blood has dried and because Tim’s shirt was a relatively light color there was little hope for it.

So John shook his head, “I think you got it on your neck…”

“Hmm? How the hell would I have gotten it on my neck??….oh..”

Tim pulled his hand from the back of his neck, and stared at it.

“Fuck.”

“You say that a lot.”

Tim’s eyes snapped back to him. Oh that was the wrong thing to say.

“Ya I do. Ya I fucking do John. You know why? Beacuse for the past two week I’ve been stuck in a freezing fucking room with my boss who suddenly 180ed how he’s acting and that’s fucking confusing. I’m cold all the time and every night I hear you walking around the room muttering to yourself about whatever the fuck you are, you have been insisting on feeding me and ahit when you never cared before. Hell apparently you wanted to feed me so fucking bad I broke your fucking nose and now I’m standing out in the cold open air well cleaning you up and now I have my only shirt covered in blood. I think I’m allowed to swear when all this shit keeps happening,” Tim took a deep breath breath

John was frozen in shock from Tims outburst. Sadly he wasn't done.

“No and you know what John? I have tried so fucking hard to bond with throughout my years working with you and all I was met with was a complete wall and hell later I was met with worse then a wall! All I got from you was distrust and a fucking staucker! We worked together for how many years before you became the head Archivest and you still thought I was some fucking monster! You took pictures of my house and I still was trying to give you grace but at every turn you just proved it was useless. What changed? Why the hell are you trying to be so fucking nice to me now?? I'd love to know!”

John sat silently staring up up at who had began rubbing his arms well pacing. He had no idea what to say, he knew after everything he hadn't treated Tim, or any of his staff really, well. Much less the respect they deserved. Tim had gone though the exact thing John had just with the extra stress of having to run through the tunnels alone. And still John treated him as a threat, he knew Tim and still was so cruel.

Tim had every right to be angry, to be hurt. And after everything he deserved to question John.

“I….I'm sorry Tim. For everything,” before he could continue Tim turned on him again.

“Your /sorry/?! Your sorry that you completely disregarded everyone and pushed all of us to our wits ends. Your sorry for all the nights where we tried to stay late to help you with whatever you thought was going on? The multiple accusations you threw around without a second thought? Your sorry? Are you fucking kidding me John!”

John flinched and looked away from Tim. All the softness and concern drained from his voice and expression.

“Yes…I'm sorry. I…nothing I say will fix it…I was to deep in my own parking and could never stop to think about you all,” John whispered.

He heard Tim scoff but he stayed quite.

“I…thank you for trying so hard Tim…I didn't..don't, deserve any kindness your understanding from you. I know before this all I was not the best ether, I'm sorry for that as well. I can't tell you what changed..I don't even remember when it did. Just after we got locked in here….I was able to stop thinking about you like that. It seems so obvious now that you couldn't, wouldn't have done anything, especially not this. You wouldn't lock me in a room with you, you wouldn't let yourself get sick…you stuck in here too. I saw how you got sick, the least I could do after everything was at least try to help..”

—-------

Tim let his arms drop. He had screamed at John and instead of fighting him, John was apologizing.

He looked so…sad? Remorseful? Guilty?

Good.

He should feel bad, after all the shit he put Tim through.

As John sat there Tim could feel all his anger leave him,it was like a weight off his chest. Without the weight he felt empty, like he had nothing to keep him going. To keep him standing.

God it was cold.

So Tim sat. He looked up at John whose head shot up when he heard something hit the ground. Damn it, he really was worried about him.

He sighed.

“Keep talking,” Tim said as he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them.

“W-what?”

“Just keep talking, I'm…I can't be mad any more John, I'm too tired right now. Anything you want to tell me, tell me now. The quiet is too loud.”

Tim stared at the wall. It hadn't changed at all, still a plain, windowless, slab of cold concrete. He could hear John's breath.

“Right then. I suppose I can do that. When do you want me to start?”

Tims mouth was covered in the curled up position so even to him his words were muffled.

“Don't care”

He cared a little bit, even if he didn't have the energy to be angry he still wanted to know. Granted what John already said was more then he had ever expected to hear. He wanted more, apparently John was going to give it so he would take what he gave.

“Right. Well, you know this part already, after Martin found Gertrude's body I spiraled into a panic trying to figure out what happened. I'm still convinced that someone, or at least something killed her…but I was so far in the panic everyone seemed suspicious, no matter how much evidence I had. I needed something to blame, a reason that wasn't just some random thing killing her in a way she had no chance of stopping. I…I felt I needed to know so I could stop it happening to me. You all were the people closest so I…I blamed you. Even if it didn't make sense.”

Tim knew that, it was obvious to everyone honestly. Everyone except John himself of course, Tim supposed it was good for John to finally realize it to.

“If I'm being honest….I wanted it to be one of you so I could prove to myself that I can't trust people. But..I know it wasn't, you all, you all are good. I don't know how to approach any of you, even before all this. I'm so distant from everyone because I believed everyone was just…plotting. A Lot of the times I was right but I wasn't with you all. You all were genuinely trying to be kind to me and I refused to meet you. I'm sorry again.”

Tim hummed. He understood that train of thought, that everyone was bad and out for themselves. Hell he thought that for the longest time too, it was the only thing that kept him alive for years. He didn't notice when he stopped thinking that, was it when he found the Institute? Meeting Sasha or Martin maybe? He couldn't be sure.

Thankfully John continued after a brief pause. Tim heard the deep breaths he was taking.

“When we first got stuck in here I was still going down my rabbit hole, I don't know when I first was able to stop and think properly again. I think it was when you stopped pacing around the room, strted to hide in the blankets. I knew something was wrong and it….flipped a switch and suddenly I was just able to…trust you.”

Tim lifted his lead and looked at John, who was looking anywhere but him.

“You..you trust me?”

Silence.

Tim thought he was going to backtrack or ignore him but,

“Yes. I trust you Tim”

John finally looked at Tim.

The bruises around John's eyes were starting to darken and Tim couldn't help but start to laugh.

After everything, after Prentiss and all the fucking worms, the servalance tapes, everything. This is what got John to trust him. He decked John in the face not even an hour ago and now he was flat out saying he trusted him!

He could see the confusion on John's face but as his eye crinkled so did the starting bruises and it just looked so ...so funny on John. John who was always so serious and methodical and paranoid looked like he had a painted on bandits mask.

Tims laughter dubbed and he ended up laying back on the hard floor. John to his credit stayed quite as Tim laughed, just as he didn't when he yelled. But that didn't make it any less funny.

“Holy hell John,” Tim barely breathed out between bursts of laughter.

“You, you make no sense!”

—-----------------

Tim was still having with laughter as John processed what was going on.

He had no idea why Tim was laughing. Just a few minutes ago he was angry and yelling but now? Right after John told him he trusted him..did he think John was lying?

If he were less worried about Tims sudden for of laughter he would have given himself the moment to just enjoy the sounds. Later that night he would think about it and realize it was the first time he really heard Tim laugh. Not just he chuckles and short huffs, a real laugh.

When Tim finally called down he stayed laying on the floor. His breathing was loud and felt exaggerated but John didn't say anything.

“You know John, you have the strangest mind.”

More beats of silence

“Do…do you really trust me or are you just fucking with me John?”

Finally John was able to say /something/.

“ When have I ever “fucked with you”? I am of course I do trust you I wouldn't just say that…”

Tim chuckled again, “ it's just odd John, I was so angry at you a bit ago but now, now I just ... .God I don't know.”

John sat there confused and frankly a little concerned.

The both of the sat there, John could feel the tissue in his nose collecting blood and it was weird.

“Hay John…”

John looked at Tim immediately.

“Yes?”

“You're a real prick, you know that?”

Although he was insulting him Tims voice didn't have any anger in it anymore, not as far John could tell. Then again John was shit at telling somehow knew. Not John.

“I..yes I am aware.”

Tim groaned

“ God you sound like one too! Seriously you need to lighten the fuck up and learn how to talk without sounding like a English teacher.”

“I think the way I talk is just fine,” John said defensively. His arms crossed over his chest.

“No, no you really do. I swear you give me flashbacks of falling asleep in 10th grade English. It's crazy,” Tim was still laying on the floor and while John couldn't see it, was smiling.

“Well perhaps the reason you think it's odd is because you were napping while being taught proper language.”

“Na, you're just weird. Also no one just says ‘perhaps’ John. Nobody.”

Tim finally sat back up. He leaned back on his hands and looked at John. He sighed.

“I'm sorry John.”

What? What could you be apologizing for? I-”

“Cuz I just started fuckin yelling at you man. You didn't even do anything and I just blew off on you,” John was about to interrupt but Tim held up his hand.

“I mean I had every right, have, for that matter, to be angry but I just blew up on you when you were probably just trying to mess with me. Fuck I broke your nose and then cleaned you up and then yelled at you! Here I am going on about mixed signals and doing it myself! It wasn't fair. I'm sorry.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Was that a question?”

“I…No?”

“Why are you just asking questions? I'm trying be sincere here man.”

“I know I just, I don't know what to do. I, I am not used to being apologized to..”

“Martin says sorry to you all the time?????”

“Well, ya, but that's ,Martin. He apologizes for everything, even when he's done nothing wrong.”

Tim agreed and laughed a little.

“I suppose that's true. But ya John, I should've, I should've handled it better. Especially cuz I just broke your nose well you were trying to do something nice to me.”

“I did catch you off guard. You can't be fully to blame.”

Tim laughed again. John felt himself smile. He didn't quite understand what was going on or how Tim reacted but he liked that he seemed calmer. He seemed calmed then he had been since the two of them had been trapped. John didn't want to ruin that. Tim deserved a moment of calm.

Then Tim had a full body shiver. It snapped John out of his semi-daze.

“Are you alright?”

“Fuck ya I'm fine,” Tim was rubbing his arms again.

It must have been a trick of the light but John could have sworn Tims lips where blue.

“I'm just a bit cold. Its fucking freezeing in here.”

“You should lay back down, maybe eat some more.”

“Oh shut it. I'm fine. It's just a bit cold. It's not like the floor is helping any though.”

John went to stand up, but when he did it felt like a rush of dizziness and nausea ran though his bones. He quickly sat back down. His eyes squeezed shut trying to stop the room from spinning around him.

“Oh shit, John.”

He felt Tims strong hand on his shoulder holding him up to prevent him was falling forward.

Strong hand? Why was he thinking that. It's just Tims hand.

“Hey, it's ok. Just breath, Itll go away soon.”

John nodded. He reached his hand up to hold Tim's arm he took deep breaths and slowly he could feel the world righting itself around him.

When he finally opened his eyes Tim was right in front of him kneeling on the floor. His arm reached him stabilizing John and the other rested on the chair, just shy of touching him.

Tims eyes were on his, the brown color piercing into Johns.

“You ok there John,” Tims said softly.

His voice was always so smooth, it never sounded bad. Tim was so close to him.

John nodded, he opened his mouth but when nothing came out he closed it again and looked away from Tims concerned eyes.

“You lost a shit ton of blood you know, you really should be more careful. You, of all people, should know about the dizziness man.”

“Right, I was just trying to-”

“Ether way man,” Tim interrupted “You can't be fucking stupid. Come on, I'll help you to lie down.”

“I can walk just fine on my own.”

John was trying but Tim had other plans. He slid his arm under johns and lifted him to his feet. John's head swam as he rose.

“Every time you have tried to walk in the past, however I've been out of my blankets you've almost fallen so I don't wanna hear it.”

Tim walked John over to his pile of blankets. Not Johns little spread but Tims own.

“And before you start bitching about this being my…. pile, I broke your nose and you lost a lot of blood, you need to stay warm. You can use my stuff tonight.”

As Tim sat John down he was able to catch up with what he was saying.

“What about you? I gave you all these because you've been shivering all night.”

“John….have you been watching me sleep.”

It didnt really sound like a question but John answered it anyway.

“Well it's not exactly hard to notice. I uh, I don't sleep a lot. I spend a lot of time trying to find something but I do….check on you occasionally. You shiver a lot so I have been giving you any new blankets that appear. I don't really need them.”

Tim stared at John. He could tell if he was angry or not, he looked almost passive. Well he wasn't holding John any more he could still almost feel a chill coming off of Tim. The little bit of his arms that were exposed were covered in goosebumps.

That's one thing John never understood about Tim, his style. He would wear a lot of more revealing clothes, nothing too scandalous during work but he seemed to be wearing it under his clothes.If John sent him to get information he always came back to the institute…wearing less then when he left. Right now, he was wearing one of his only long sleeves he currently had. The only problem was that his sleeves had holes at the shoulders. The shirt was designed like that. And it's not like it looked /bad/ on Tim, it just defeated the point of wearing long sleeves.

John realized he was staring at Tims shoulders and looked back up at Tims face. They both knew he was cold and before John could start to object Tim did something completely unexpected.

“Ugh fine. I don't want to hear a word from you about this. Got it? You did this yourself and the only reason I'm doing it is because your right about me being cold. Its fucking freezeing in here and it's crazy your not frozen to death with the week ass scratchy piece of cloth that we have been calling a blanket.”

Tim shifted to sit next to John and layed down.

“Well come on, I'm not going to sit with the cold air hitting me for much longer.”

John didn't say anything and lied next to Tim on the thick comforter he had pushed over the concrete floor to protect from the cold. Tim quickly pulled the other 4, yes 4, blankets over the two of them.

“There, now you can't complain.”

John nodded and watched as Tim curled his body so all of it was under the covers, even his head.

—————

Tim felt John shift around for a minute before finally laying still.

The blankets were big enough to cover both of them easily so it wasn’t like they were touching or anything but they were still quite close. He could feel John’s warmth under the blankets, his body heat being trapped in.

Tim had to admit it was really nice, the blankets helped but having John right next to him helped even more with the cold that continued to seep through him. He wished he could have John just fold around his body so he could soak up all his warmth. But that was asking way /way/ too much. He didn’t even ask about this, he just forced John to lay down somewhere that wasn’t on the freezing concrete.

He really did feel bad about snapping at John today. He felt justified in his anger but just because he was justified in it doesn’t mean it was appropriate. Over the past few days John really was just trying to help him, he kept insisting that he eat and he kept giving Tim his blankets.

It was really sweet when he stopped and thought about it, he could take a form of comfort in that. He also took a not so small comfort knowing John was right next to him. He could feel his warmth and feel the blankets shift as he did.

And even though Tim was always cold he usually held one tight against his chest. He just couldn’t sleep without holding something, when he was home he had a stupid stuffed animal that he would hold at night but here he didn’t. Any semblance of comfort Tim useily took part in was gone, for now and the foreseeable future. But he could at least have this for now, even if it was only for tonight.

Maybe he could convince John to sleep like this more. He thought as he curled even more into himself and tried to fall asleep.

That’s for what I thought would be a good chapter 1!

I do have more written and I am continuing to wright it:)

Should I start posting this to Ao3 now or should I wait?

I love feedback and suggestions!

If you want to be tagged when I post about this fic let me know and I’ll try! :)

Thank you so much for reading!

[helyiios]

Inspired by that prompt from Snovyda, imagine Ethan finding Benji after he actually has tried to kill himself (if you’re comfortable of course, no worries if you aren’t)

TW : description of SH

There are a few things that scare Ethan Hunt. Eating too much junk food is one of them, along with reliving the loss of his first IMF team, having to go through the pain of seeing them die in front of his eyes without being able to do anything, to see the light fade from their eyes and their figures slump, cold against him.

Benji had been odd for the entire day...snappy, rude, even fully mean. He'd screamed at Brandt and slammed his coffee against a wall after messing up the same line of code three times, and he'd almost punched an analyst who'd had the bad idea to look out for him to get help about some data issue.

Which was worrying Ethan, were it not a little bit frightening him, too. It wasn't like he'd never seen Benji angry—the man had given him displays of displeasure plenty of times in their friendship, and it always took him aback, because there was a softness in his eyes that didn't quite fit the harshness of his words. But today was different, he could feel it.

He could feel it, and when Benji hadn't answered Brandt when he'd asked the team to get drinks, he'd started feeling uneasy. Then he hadn't answered Jane, Luther, and then Ethan had tried calling him, as a last resort, and the line had gone dead.

Working at the IMF means he's good at many things usual people are not, and that translates with him picking up his friend's door at 2 in the morning, the relentless ice cold of D.C's weather clawing at this skin as he was working his magic, finally feeling the locks give in.

It was the first time he'd gone into Benji's flat, actually, and he doesn't exactly know what to expect. It's big, for one, but he doesn't exactly know where his friend stands on the whole money thing. Surely the IMF pays well, especially when you're a field agent. But he did not have the same pay when he'd started, and he'd had this flat for at least 15 years. Which, hey. Maybe Benji had always been rich.

"Benj ?" he asks carefully, trying to see if there was any noise betraying the other's presence, "are you there ?"

Nothing.

He makes his way into the living room, surprised to see the lights turned off fully, save for the dim TV screen that was displaying a show he could not pinpoint, barely flooding the cold Chinese takeout in blueish light. The kitchen was bare, and the fridge was open, revealing one opened can of beer sadly tipped over the edge. He goes over to close it.

It's cold, he notes, and then sees that all the windows were open.

Don't panic, he swallows, forcing himself to go look over them, praying to every gods above to not find the other's body crumpled on the ground, covered in blood.

Nothing.

Good.

"Benji ? It's Ethan. I...I wanted to check up on you. You weren't picking up your phone."

Silence.

There's another quite massive room to his left, and the entire thing is covered in some trendy Hi-Fi stereos, along with four computers screens bathed in purple LEDs, close to a large chair and a rainbow lighted keyboard. He smiles to himself, appreciating the ambiance of the room.

Still no Benji.

There's something that tells him that he isn't in his room. It's a gut feeling he's been trying to ignore for the entirety of his trip to the flat, but the shivers on his body are impossibly to put aside now, and he feels his jaw tense.

Benji is okay, he tries to convince himself. Maybe he left in a hurry. Maybe he's out with friends.

You do not have friends, when you're working at the IMF. At least, not other than your colleagues.

He doesn't want to go to the bathroom.

He doesn't, because he knows the trope. He knows the clichés. He hates that he can see a faint light from under the room's door.

"Benji," he says again, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going to come in."

He tries the handle. Locked.

It should take him 30 seconds to make his way in, but his fear gets the best of him.

What will he find, in there ? Does he want to know ?

He's so scared.

His hands are shaking when he finally pulls it open, and the scene in front of him is worse than anything he'd come up with.

He stumbles backwards, covering his mouth with his left hand, his breath dying in his throat.

Benji is slumped on the ground, surrounded by a small pool of blood, a pool that was overflowing from his left arm, the arm that was sliced in tens of small cuts, some larger than others, some red, some white, some across—

One along.

A long one, spreading from his wrist to the middle of his forearm, was bleeding out profusely, and Ethan screams out.

This shouldn't be happening.

This should not be happening.

I should have never left him alone.

"BENJI !" he yells, taking the other's face in his hands and checking for a pulse—faint, but present—and grabbing the first roll of toilet paper he can find to dabs at the scars, feeling his heart give out when the soaking overtakes the white immediately, too much, to deep, too red. "BENJI, WAKE UP, PLEASE, BENJI !"

How long had he been there ?

Some of the scars were already dry.

Blood dries in around an hour.

No.

"Fuck—FUCK !" he chokes out, taking out his phone and slamming the three numbers on the screen, trying to help with the hemorrhage, helpless, watching his friend's face pale more and more, feeling his pulse dim.

He should've never left him alone.

[9-1-1, what is your emergency ?] 

Finally.

"It's my friend," he wheezes, trying to keep the tears away from his voice, "my friend, he's—he's in his bathroom, he's cut himself, I think—I think he tried—" breathes in, Ethan, "I think he's tried to kill himself, I'm trying to keep the blood in but it—there's a lot, and—"

[Okay, sir, does your friend have a pulse ?]

"Yes, yes, a small one, but it's fading, and I—"

[Alright, we're sending you an ambulance, can you give us the address ?]

Everything after this fades out.

He stares at Benji's unmoving face as he gives the informations, holds his hand, and it's so cold, and lifeless, and he feels burning tears trail their way along his cheeks, and slumps on him and cries, and cries, and begs him to wake up.

He begs him to show him his blue and golden eyes once again, to scream at him, to insult him, look at him annoyedly, anything, he'll take anything, please,

Benji, you're not supposed to be so cold, he whimpers, sobs shaking his entire body, you're the sun, you're not supposed to be so cold.

Wake up, Benji, please, for me ? Wake up.

Wake up.

There are stocks of bloodied toilet paper lying on the ground by the time help comes, and he's forcefully pulled from him as the other is lifted on an ambulance stretcher, and he says, yes, I'm his best friend—I need to come with you, please, I need to make sure he's okay.

"Sir, we need to know," one of the paramedics asks, and their voice is so soft it makes him violent, "is it the first time you found him like that ?"

Yes. Yes.

"Yes," he harshly replies in between the tears, "I don't know how—I—"

"There are other, older scars on his arms, this is not a one time thing. Hopefully this is the first and last time it's gone to such lengths."

No, he can't have other scars.

Benji can't have been doing this to himself.

Benji...Benji is—

"I didn't know," Ethan sniffles, voice high pitched, rubbing the unforgiving tears from his blood stained cheeks, "I didn't know, I didn't—"

"It's alright, sir," the paramedic, bless them, whispers back, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You friend is going to be okay. We're going to help him."

I would rather have to face a new nuclear threat tomorrow than have to see Benji like this anytime more.

Stay with me. Stay with me.

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

[NSFW] Oviposition saiou prompt

Hina: You could make a bubble guppies saiou au Me: Make it oviposition or get out of here Bunny: just make a normal mer au hina Hina: Excuse me. What? Me: I said Make it oviposition or get out of here, mer sex or go to the normal ⁠au-corner [because it was in a nsfw channel]

Hina: Monokuma the orange fish Bunny: MR GROUPER DESERVES BETTER monokuma is grumpfish /j

Hina: Why oviposition Me: Seahorses, hell, one of them can even be a seahorse prince if you want, think about it But actually just because I like it [red evil smiley emoji] Bunny: really catering to hina's interests huh [Hina's thing with horse prince is Pit lore, sorry]

Bunny: i rlly enjoy ovi/eggpreg stuff which is VERY funny since normal pregnancy is. one of my biggest squicks, so are saiou childhood friends AND eggpreg bc then we can slide in some 'if you don't get married by-' Me: I don't know the cartoon, I just want the egg laying action Bunny: i go for interspecies ovi usually but they can both be mer this time. as a treat Hina: I'm down for anything childhood friends [but we had to explain ovi to him]

Bunny: chasing each other thru the seaweed a mating chase/capture could be fun, as a throwback to their childhood games,, Me: That's so cute Bunny: it is!! they're giggling the whole way through kokichi teases him abt it because shuuichi always lost their childhood races (he will win this time) whether it was something along the lines of hysterical strength or kokichi let him the world will never know Hina: WHY IS THE HE WILL WIN SO THREATENING Bunny: BECAUSE HE'S GONNA TACKLE KOKICHI INTO THE MUD AND FILL HIM WITH EGGS, HINA Hina: EXCUSE ME??? Bunny: WHAT TJE FUCK DID YOU THINK MATING CHASE/CAPTURE MEANT Hina: I wasn't paying attention to that part I was just like. "Oh chase sounds fun" Wait so loser gets egged? Bunny: yes, hina what a way to phrase it

Hina: Also isn't that like. A shitton of eggs Me: Not the craziest amount of eggs in the nature world But yeah, it can be lowered for the mers, they evolved past the high infant mortality biological precautions Hina: Also how big are these eggs Like relative to a human Bunny: i was thinking about kokichi getting an ovipositor as thick as his arm stuffed in him ok big eggs because i want to make kokichi cry Me: Tiny, Okay, sure Hina: Where are these eggs going Bunny: his womb??? where else would they go… Hina: He has a womb??? Bunny: both of them do MER HAVE DICK/OVIPOSITOR AND VULVA, AS WELL AS ALL OF THE INTERNAL MECHANICS THAT IMPLIES Hina: Where do they go do they just. Sit in there. Bunny: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SIT IN THERE DID YOU EXPECT THEM TO DO A LITTLE DANCE Hina: WHAT DO THE EGGS DO Like do they have to lay the eggs? Or are they just. Eggs for the sake of eggs and get dissolved like human eggs do? Bunny: are blanks (like unfertilized chicken eggs) just for sex purposes? hatch inside leading to live birth? get laid and THEN hatch? eat each other like shark pups??? lots of options Kai: THEY INCUBATE IN THE FATHER AND HATCH AND HE PUSHES THEM OUT HINA Hina: WAIT SO THEY HATCH INSIDE???? Bunny: there's plenty of real fish that do that, hina Dra: Yea the dads just pops the babies out Hina some fish give birth fun fact Hina: IM QUITE LITERALLY ALLERVIX TO EGGS I HAVE AN EGG ALLERGY Okay [Bunny] just explain the AU I'll Google it

Bunny: WHICH ONE Hina: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS MERMAIDS WITH A SIDE OF OVIPOSIFION YOU SAID SOMETHING ABOUT MARRIAGE Bunny: saiou are best friends as children. both of them are disliked by almost everyone and find a safe haven in each other, eventually promising to mate each other by age [idk] if no one else will. Shenanigans Proceed, they have a better pod and found family now but the joke promise remains,, kokichi brings it up when it's time as a funny haha because obviously shuuichi wouldn;t want HIM and shuuichi misinterprets and thinks kokichi is making fun of the concept of wanting HIM, cue third act breakdown and resolution. Me: Wtf Why would you add angst to it Bunny: that's not angst it's hurt/comfort they're fine being raised in a pod that hated them both led to some self esteem issues but they find love in each other and their new friends and family they have a mating run/chase through the seaweed and shuuichi wins, pinning kokichi down and filling him tf up. the end i like emotions in my egg porn what can i say im stealing from pregame hcs and saying baby shuuichi is just, WAY too into poison for everyone's comfort, to be supportive, kokichi keeps asking him to '''poison his enemies''' he will not

Me: How do they actually resolve the conflict and get together tho? Bunny: idk they have a conversation about it maybe one of them is packing to dramatically leave and the other one accidentally spills the beans on their pining we never decided if they actually have babies huh Hina: No that's why I was confused Is there a reason they need to mate Is it a for life thing? Bunny: generally i assume yeah? Hina: Okay so it's kinda just because? If they wanted theh could be unmarried? Bunny: i..guess?? hina it's porn Me: Ofc they have babies, if they didn't want babies then they should have yeeted the eggs

[dane-ffxiv]

Prompt #16: Third-rate

The summer streets of Kugane were like no other; lanterns and fireworks painted the skies, endless stalls of activities and cuisine cluttered the city, and everyone dressed themselves in traditional attire. Moonfire Faire was wonderful, Dane wouldn't deny that, but this festival seemed more genuine and intimate than the tourist traps in La Noscea. Not that she would complain or hold herself in higher regard. Despite her own roots tracing back to this very land (or in this case, sea), she was still a tourist in name. Not enough pull in either direction to define her place.

Yet, it still felt natural navigating the city. Vendors called to her like they would any Raen, temptations of taiyaki, yakitori, and her other favorite selections of street food.

“Now you look like an angler, miss.” A man called out. Even if it was a sales pitch to attract customers, he wasn't exactly wrong. Dane wandered over to his stall, curious of the game's setup.

“Maybe so. Is that what you're looking for? People to win?”

“Aye, I've got plenty of fish here. If you can catch one, it's yours.” She leaned over the counter to take a closer look at his pond. Beautiful goldfish in a various patterns of black and orange gathered to the surface. The sight of people likely conditioned them to expect food. She smiled, eyeing each one with adoration. Even if it were a common species, their namesake scales glimmered under any source of light.

A little goldfish lagged behind the group, unable to maintain a straight path. Dane guessed one of its fins had issues. Seeing how eager it was to join the school despite its injury tugged at her heart.

“How do you play?”

The man laughed, demonstrating by casting the rod himself. Without bait, they seemed uninterested. But the motion from tugging at his line was enough for them to give chase. He reeled one in soon after.

“I'll take my chances.” She passed him enough gil in exchange for the rod. This would be harder than simply winning the game. Dane sunk her line into the pond for practice, far from the school. Once settled, she fixated on the prize she wanted.

Many attempts followed, all cut short right before the catch. The stall owner noticed this, confused by the Raen’s intentions. Twenty or so fish were intentionally ignored.

That little fish swam in circles and figure-eights, struggling with its own existence. It noticed the lure once or twice, enough to be distracted away from the group. And finally, when the goldfish decided it was worth the hassle, it stalked her line. In a pitiful way, of course, but Dane had patience just this once. It took a calculated wide turn with its good fin, and then, a bite. She gently raised it from the water and smiled at the man. Now he understood.

“All that fanfare for a little one.” He scooped pond water into a container along with her prize. “It takes a lot of skill to pick the catch you want.” Sprinkling a bit of food in, the fish happily surfaced for its meal.

“You weren't far from the truth before. I'm something of a professional.” Dane smiled at the new friend in her hands. “And I wanted to make sure I gave this little one a loving home.”

[primeministerofantarctica]

A3! reading club: act one (chapter 1-6)

(cw: talking about parental neglect and abuse, orientalism, one mention of suicide)

Hey, ten out of twelve isn't bad, all things considered! This very well could have gone down in October. Also, since it's February (March if you wanna be generous), does that mean everyone in Harugumi's slightly younger than their Year One ages now? Ack, timelines are confusing.

Izumi casually talking about how Yukio neglected her and following it up with "well, it was probably because he loved this theater so much!" is. Oh, girl. No wonder she snapped when Sakyo suggested he'd abandoned Mankai, because if he hadn't loved it, then why did she have to go through with that?

I'm not versed enough in Japanese particles but I recognize "daijoubu" and Tsuzuru watching this trainwreck unfold and saying something along the lines of "are you guys, like, okay?" is extremely funny.

Then we get to Sakuya and Masumi's family situations, which. From a meta perspective, it makes sense to want to give your minor protagonists the freedom that having parents limits. That's why the trope of "young protagonist in kid's spec fic media is conveniently an orphan" is so common. (was? I think it's becoming less common now.) The problem lies in the lack of willingness to follow through with the emotional conflict it creates, or resolve said conflict in a satisfying manner. Sure, I'm assuming they weren't starved or physically abused, but being treated like a burden when you're a child is still fucking traumatizing! Basically I think Izumi Sakuya and Masumi should start a union. And I'm glad later chapters go the reasonably more toned-down route of "my parents have a reasonable amount of trust in me to make these kinds of decisions".

Also, can we talk about Sakuya and Masumi, because they're one of my favorite brotps here. The way Sakuya appoints himself as Masumi's surrogate big brother? He's so eager to potentially share a room with him ;-;. (personally I hc that Ms. Sakuma was expecting another child before the accident or whatever killed them, so Sakuya's been a big brother without a younger sibling all this time </3)

Wow, that doesn't sound like a metaphor for anything! You're right, Izumi, why would you go the easy route of taking something prepackaged and guaranteed when a bunch of wildly different spices can create a delicious meal if you know how to utilize them right?

Am I grasping at straws here. Probably.

The little ka-ching sound effect is adorable.

Tsuzuru, I'd think "antagonist" should be near the top of the list...also, there's plenty of plays that have been pulled off with two or three actors. Just put on "night, Mother" or something. (Joking. Don't look up night, Mother if you're sensitive to themes of suicide.)

"Tsuzuru, you picked this troupe because it had a dorm, right? ...Then maybe our best bet is to focus on more people in your shoes."

"People in my shoes? In other words...."

"The homeless?"

I CAN'T ASJHGSKSDSK

he's literally doing the 😔 face i'm on the floor.

HE'S HERE! Funny how Izumi's right about Citron not being a regular tourist right off the bat. He may not be from another troupe, but he's definitely "in character" right now.

Also, oof. Citron's my second fave in Harugumi after Sakuya, but it's glaringly obvious how much of his character is rooted in orientalism. Sure, maybe it's an act, but why is he talking about how "shameful" showing skin is when his top is (conveniently for us) THAT low-cut.

On another note, I know people have pointed out his distaste for pig's feet as evidence for headcanoning him as Muslim, but I haven't seen anyone point out how he calls Veludo Way a "mecca" of theatre. Like yeah, mecca can just mean hub, but...why didn't they just say hub? Words Have Connotations. I'm not saying this coding is good or bad, it's just a neutral observation.

AND HERE'S THIS BASTARD (affectionate)

Oh, Kasumi! (insert pointing reaction pic bc I've run out of photo space.) It's Kasumi, guys! :D

[fractured-shield]

Five lines tag

Thanks @honeybewrites for the tag!

Rules: Find five lines based on the prompts you are given, then change ONE of the prompts at the end.

Lines are either from my current FS draft, or from the random scenes jumbled together in my notes that *might* be in FS eventually

A line about food (pov you're too stressed to have an appetite and your friend isn't going to let you pass out in a meeting)

He sighed as they stopped before the door to their room. “It’s always the same. The young ones are afraid of me, and anyone else treats me like I’ll break, or as if I already have.” “Well, Aestarn said that you aren’t frightening, to be fair, only that you look like it at first. So it seems they’ve figured out that you’re too nice for your own good, and exactly as threatening as a mouse. And not even the kind of mouse we have in Tarnuvin, those little skittish field mice they have here in Rhorn. …Oh, you stubborn bastard, you never even finished your fucking soup, did you?” In spite of himself, Idhren found himself laughing at the absurdity of Hal's question. “I'm sorry, I don't think I did.”

A sad line

"I couldn’t blame him, I couldn’t ask for more, but I… We parted ways on good terms, and then the war ended…and then he died. …That’s a story for another time,” he ended weakly. “Oh,” she said quietly, looking up from where she was trying to untangle the tarnished chain. He wasn’t quite happy with how much of himself he saw in her, but she had always had her mother’s way of understanding people in an instant. She looked at him like she knew so much more than he’d said. “Oh, you loved him. Didn’t you?” “I did,” he answered, so much more easily than he’d expected. “...I still do. And your mother, and every friend I shouldn’t have outlived, and…” “Don’t put it that way.” She spoke with surprising conviction, without any of the stumbling hesitation he was learning to expect from her awkward teenage years. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He took a slow, measured breath. “My point is that you don’t stop loving people when you go your separate ways, or just because they die.”

A line about a book/reading

"Besides, thinking you’re good at something has nothing to do with whether or not you actually are. I don't know how it is for your parents, but I’ve never once felt like I was good at any of the council work.” He smiled just a little, like he was telling her some great secret. “Wait—really? Aren’t you Tarnuvin’s senior councillor or something?” “The title doesn’t mean much,” Idhren admitted. “It’s all an act, really. I’m terribly shy, I always feel like I’m less qualified than the people I speak with, like I’m afraid they’ll find out.” Waith looked away. She wasn't used to adults being honest about that sort of thing. She wasn't sure what to do with it. "I…it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who feels unsure, when Therien and Oenith the rest always seem like they know exactly what to do.” “Just one day at a time, if that’s what you need, alright?" Waith looked at her book, running her thumb along the edge of the pages idly. “Is that Fairalmin poetry?” He leaned closer, just a little “I can’t really speak it, I can only read it. So far.” She shrugged. “That’s right, you’re from Fairalme, aren’t you?” “I am. If you want more practice, we’ll have plenty of time on the way north. Therien’s halfway fluent, herself. Ah, I always liked this one,” he read the poem’s title. “Where did you ever find a book of old Fairalmin poetry?” “Someone gave it to my parents. My mother says it's not a very useful language to know anymore, but you know how she is.”

A line about the weather

The plains below were bare, stretching out northward from the city gate. The brisk wind tossed the dry grass in waves, empty of any passers-by. Even the farmers and hunters coming for the market from Durnthain’s outlying plains had all arrived by now. “What’re you looking at?” She heard Condel’s voice behind her. “The regional council starts today.” Oenith joined her at the wall. “You know how she gets.” Therien kept looking into the distance, as if a cluster of riders would materialize out of thin air, grey banners snapping in the wind and guards’ armor catching the glint of the sun, if only she looked hard enough.  “The weather's nice today—it's the perfect weather for this kind of thing, don’t you think? It was a little cold when I was putting out Ealrid's laundry this morning, but the wind fills out the banners when everyone gets here, and they're so nice to look at.” They didn’t answer. She could feel them staring at her. “Therien, who the hell has an opinion about what kind of weather is best for a council meeting?” Oenith gave her a teasing jab with her elbow. She rolled her eyes and didn’t dignify it with an answer. It made perfect sense to her, after all, so what was the use in explaining it?

A fun line (not sure if it counts as fun but it's got Malin in it and he's always fun to write)

“Gods, it’s been ages, hasn’t it?” he called out in a friendly tone that seemed to Therien much too casual for the current situation. The sun glinted against the gold scrollwork on the breastplate of his armor and he raised a gloved hand in greeting. “What are you doing here, Idhren?” Her papa gave a slight smile, answering more quietly. “The trade council just ended. We were leaving, until we ran into the hunting party. What about you?” “Oh, you know how it is,” he shrugged, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, ornate and polished until it sparkled. Therien didn’t know how it was, actually. “I’m just keeping an eye on the Lochieru. It’s not like they’re going to declare war on Vailra, are they? They’ve enough enemies, with the whole alliance at their throats, they won’t risk adding another—and a city of mages at that.” Therien looked at him. “You don’t look much like a mage.” A moment later she realized her mistake. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just—” “Gods, no,” Malin laughed easily. “I’m only a swordsman. The only magic I know is how to light a candle, and it took me near a decade to learn.” He looked closer at her. “...Therien? Last I heard you were toddling around with a wooden sword and starting fights with your playmates. We’ve never met, have we—how old are you now?” “Seventeen,” she flushed timidly at the amiable attention, realizing already what her papa had meant, how everyone Malin met was treated as a friend.

Tagging: @ryderwritings @leahnardo-da-veggie @just-emis-blog and anyone else who wants to join, for the following prompts:

A line about music

A sad line

A line about a book/reading

A line about the weather

A fun line

Tag list: @just-emis-blog @orions-quill @honeybewrites @leahnardo-da-veggie @robin-the-blind-sniper-rifle