#Just a drabble of sorts

[amourtoken]

Lovesick baby fever having Quinn fic coming tomorrow

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Sorry, but I just had a thought and I’m exhausted and don’t know if I’m going to write anymore tonight.

Just Steve holding a slight grudge against Nancy after she pretty much calls his love bullshit in the bathroom. He feels lead on, he’s slightly bitter but he knows how to be discreetly passive if he needs to be. But thing is he doesn’t have the energy in him to be passive. If this had been before the monsters, and someone who he thought was the love of his life did what Nancy did and proceeded to end up dating the guy who she said not to worry about within days after getting into a fight, he would have probably done something stupid. Probably would have ruined her locker with mean words or something like that.

He wasn’t sure what he would do, he was exhausted and couldn’t think of what used to come easy to him. Or maybe he’s grown to realize how immature that was, how it didn’t even seem all that fun to do to someone. Just thinking back to spray painting slut on the theater makes his gut twist uncomfortably. Once, he used to be the one to climb up there and spray something even worst. Now the thought made him want to throw up.

And maybe the grudge he is holding against Nancy isn’t really a grudge. Maybe he has matured to realized that the grudge he held was within himself for how fast he had fallen. For how stupid he was for thinking the girl would ever end up with him. He should have seen the signs. How she defended Jonathan even after he took non consensual photos of him and her about to have sex. Which he still felt disgusted by, his skin still crawled uncomfortably around the little creep whenever he was close by.

Though when the time comes, he realizes he was holding a grudge against Nancy. When he falls harder for someone new he realizes within minutes that something was different about this one. Instead of smacking him in the shoulder and scolding him for staring to long, Eddie would pull his hair in front of his face with bright eyes. Would do something dramatic to snap Steve out of the trance he was in. Like lick his face instead of kissing him.

That was the other thing Steve discovered. In the moments where it was just the two of them, it seemed like every other minute time would stop and Eddie would be in the same bubble as him. Lost in the same spell that Steve had tumbled into, needing to kiss the other just as much as they needed oxygen to breathe.

Nancy rarely had those moments with Steve, and they had stopped right around the time she started hanging out with Jonathan.

And Steve does hold a grudge, for how she stayed with him longer than what she had to.

Eddie made him feel in love and loved. Whenever Steve watched the other man he could barely keep his hands to himself and the best part was Eddie didn’t care. Steve could bite off Eddie’s remaining nipple and the man would still let Steve do whatever he wanted to him. Nancy never trusted Steve and never earned Steve’s trust the way Eddie did within one week of knowing each other.

Eddie was the moon and Nancy had been the sun for Steve. The sun burnt his skin and left him blistered while the moon wrapped his arms around him and rocked him to sleep every night. While Steve worried about when the sun would explode, he never had to worry about the moon disappearing for to long. It always came back, no matter what happened. Even if Steve had been an asshole.

God was Steve in love. This was it for him. And maybe at one point he had loved Nancy just as much as he did Eddie.

But now, as each day passes he only finds himself falling more in love with Eddie Munson.

He slowly comes to the conclusion that his love was and will never be bullshit.

And when he finally sits down to talk to Nancy about it, he finally gets it off his chest. What had been bugging him for almost years before falling for Eddie.

“Nancy, we were bullshit. But my love, it was all real. Maybe not as strong as it is for Ed’s but I know that if … everything wasn’t such bullshit I could have gotten there.” Steve says softly to Nancy. Shortly after she confessed she still had feelings for him. He seen this conversation coming from a mile away, especially with how many one sided sparks happened between the two of them while running for their life’s on spring break.

And as he stands up, leaving her in her own shock. Letting her process that he was with Eddie, a man. He can’t help but feel proud of himself.

He didn’t intentionally hold this grudge, but he felt as if he got back at her the healthiest way he could. By maturing and moving on. And looking down at Nancy, he could tell that she needed time to do the same. Not to be with another man or date in general, but to just grow as a person. But that was no longer his problem. His problem was currently running up the steps of the trailer with what seemed to be a moving snake.

“Hey Stevie! Look what I found.”

Steve was in love, and it wasn’t bullshit.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

VH - The Kneeling Stuff

Supervillain smiled when Hero was brought before him, his hands tied behind his back. That wasn’t necessary, of course. The small, thin frame of his foe was already surrounded by two of his biggest guards. There was no way of escape. On his iron throne, he slightly shifted his position and only said:

“Kneel.”

He expected – perhaps even hoped – protestations and words of defiance. There was none. Hero obeyed, his eyes fixed on him. Seeing that he was doing it without reluctance, the guards took their places back from each side of the throne. Three pairs of eyes stared at the captive. There wasn’t an ounce of fear or anger in his expression. As far as Supervillain could judge, there was nothing but polite curiosity, and maybe a bit of confusion.

“I don’t get it”, the prisoner said after a while.

“What are you talking about ?”

“The kneeling stuff. I mean, I love to sit after I’ve been beaten up, thank you, but I don’t see what the big deal is. You said it like it was big deal. Is that some kind of trap ?”

“Wh-”

“I mean, I can sit in many ways. I can even be cross-legged if you enjoy it that much.”

Supervillain shrugged to hide his own perplexity.

“Is that the right time to be insolent, according to you ?”

Embarrassed, Hero fidgeted a little despite his bound hands and gave him a pleading look.

“I swear I’m not trying to. I just feel like I’m missing something. I’m new at this business, you know.”

Supervillain pinched the bridge of his nose:

“Honestly, the things you have to teach. Kneeling means you recognize your defeat and you’re offering yourself to me.”

“Offering myself ? Like a date ?”

“No, not like a date !” squeaked the villain. “Who says things like - ? Like – like a prisoner ! Or a slave, if you like. That means you’re inferior to me.”

“Because you’re higher than me ?”

“Exactly ! Finally.”

“Nope, still don’t get it.”

Hero looked at the guards by his side:

“They stand up, and they’re tall ladies. They’re way higher than you. By that logic, that should mean they’re your boss, then.”

“No ! They – they’re doing my work ! Look, making your foes kneel is traditional. It’s nice. I like it. Can we leave it at that ?”

“But the thing is, I don’t feel inferior. It’s literally the way I sit at home. So, I don’t understand why it’s so much more humiliating than sitting on a throne that looks incredibly uncomfortable.”

Aggravated, Supervillain jumped on his feet. His fingers ensnared Hero’s chin as he growled:

“Don’t worry, I can do so much worse. The torture I’m going to put you through won’t give you any doubt about that.”

“About kneeling ?”

“No – I mean yes I suppose among other things but -”

“I don’t think that will make me understand. I can suggest another way.”

Metal cracked. Hero shyly made his fingers glide over Supervillain’s wrist that still held his face:

“You should show me instead.”

Supervillain had only one second to realize that Hero’s hands were mysteriously free. His first impulse was to call his guards for help, but the two ladies didn’t seem to hear him. Staring at Hero, they didn’t move an inch. Hero smiled, revealing his long, sharp teeth:

“Kneel.”

The world shifted. Unable to resist this voice, Supervillain's legs buckled while Hero stood up, his pale face still calm and slightly curious:

“You know, maybe you were right on something. I don’t care about the position, but seeing someone squirm is nice every time. Now then.”

He tilted his head and shyly smiled at Supervillain’s livid face:

“Tell me, what’s your opinion on stepping on your foes ?”

*

Vampire Hero is now a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.

Or back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist.

[soaps-mohawk]

This has nothing to do with the plot of CRCB itself necessarily, but I keep thinking about Reader and Johnny pinned under a horny and pent up Simon. They two kept teasing him all day and he finally managed to drag them both back into his room to show them what happens when they work up their alpha.

Just Reader and Johnny with shit eating grins as Simon growls and tells ‘em what to do? Oh boy.

~🐀

No, no this actually does pertain to the plot 🤭 100% something that would happen 👀 reader and Johnny getting Simon all worked up. Purposefully putting themselves in places he'll see them, being all teasing and then leaving him high and dry.

He'll get his revenge. Release all that pent up anger.

[king-bito]

Shinsou x reader drabble

I needed to get this off my chest so here! I may expand on this later but I'm already writing 2 fics so who knows..

Warnings: none

Pairing: shinsou Hitoshi/Reader

Reader is a program, no pronouns used

Series: My Hero Academia

Not proofread, don't @ me I just watched FreeGuy again and my fav boy would hella have one of those desktop companion things that mess with your screen. But what if sentient.

Shinsou Hitoshi, alone, relentlessly bullied, sniffling as he shuffles down the street and rubbing his scraped elbow. He finds a random ass usb drive on his way home in the back streets leading to his mums apartment one day, and being a kid he saw no problem in trying it out on his computer. He was tech savvy and could probably locate the owner with a bit of digging (snooping). He'd rather do that than hang out with the friends he didn't have anyway. The program loaded onto his computer instantly, starting a character maker of all things, so with a shrug, Hitoshi made you how he envisioned the perfect friend for him, his favourite hair colour, eyes, a cute outfit, and pressed 'create'.

Since he had no friends, he figured why the fuck not try this thing out, seemed harmless enough.

The moment you rendered on his screen you greeted him joyfully and played with his browser windows while he searched your source code on the device only to come up empty for whoever owned or made the program.

A little weary at first, but it didn't take long for him to start talking to you and open up. He was so lonely, and the more you listened the more you could see a warmth of friendship blossoming.

He started to talk to you when he got home from school, telling it about his day, his homework, and as time went on the responses he got from you felt more real, genuine. Whoever wrote this code was pretty damn talented.

You were with him when he got into UA, helped him with homework and assignments and research. You could access the internet and any files on his computer and being unaware of your own sentience, you were happy. Hitoshi always seemed happier when he got home and you could talk his stress away, or just be with him as he gamed in comfortable silence. As he aged, so did you. As his computer upgraded, so did you. The usb always re downloaded you on to the new device.

His first couple relationships and breakups were hard, on him and you. These people must be nuts to hate him for his quirk! No one is more charming than your Hitoshi.

Years pass and he's suddenly an underground hero, he's absent from his home and computer. He misses you and hates how attached he is to this intuitive program he calls his best friend. He wishes.. Maybe even romantic partner, but that's just silly right? He can't stop thinking of you while he's away, and likewise, since he stopped turning his computer off, you craved his company too. You saw how much of a mess the world was in, and a little hacking got you past press propaganda and into the real shit hidden behind the scenes. To know he was out there facing it every day.. Worried you.

When he comes home with fresh bandages and exhausted features, his first move is to sit down at his screen and talk to you. He doesn't like your worried face. Or that you scold him for not sleeping first. He missed the company of someone who got him. Really actually honest to God understood him. He didn't have to act stoic or in charge, he didn't have to be guarded and play a role expected of him by society. Not with you.

As you're comforting him through his mission talk, he leans back in his chair and regards the screen with a lazy smirk, those amethyst eyes watching you, studying you. You'd grown, as his tastes matured so did you. Fuck you were perfect. He runs his hand down his face as for the millionth time he mentally kicks himself at how dumb he must be for falling for a program.

"It's a shame really, days like this.. I wish you were really here. I could kinda use a hug right now.." His voice is deep but rough, strained from exhaustion, and you can't help but smile softly at him, touching the screen as if to return your same want. Shinsou sighs out 3 weeks of undercover work exhaustion and closes his tired eyes.

He never admits to wanting physical affection, but you can always tell. The way he holds himself as if to isolate himself but craving the opposite, the way he talks about how touchy his friends are with each other. Your heart aches for him, but all you can do is watch, and maybe sort his files for him while he sleeps.

As a hidden status bar finally fills to the max, you blink the spots from your vision. Something hurts. Huh, that's new, pain. Your legs hurt. Of course they do they're tangled in a computer chair. And oh, you're on top of Hitoshi, who, despite years of pro hero training, has a look on his face you have never seen. Utter bewilderment.

(Obviously the first thing you do is hug him, and the awkward bastard we know and love can't compute and is red as a tomato)

One can imply the romantic/sexual tension over the following months as you please, because you're a literal ethereal, perfect being, his best friend, and you can finally exist with each other. Touch each other. Comfort each other. But you bet your ass once BAKUGO finds out how you met each other at the next 1a Réunion Xmas party he goes from 'damn you have good taste mindfuck' to never letting him live it down. The dating sim jokes never stop. You don't let it get to you, you give him plenty of Sass back, since you heard all the embarrassing stories from the UA years, you had so, so much ammunition to backup your boyfriend.

The usb is gone and you explore life, living life, with your best friend and now, partner, perfectly made for each other and there whenever you need each other. You experience touch, and taste, and smell for the first time, you show off your computer skills to Shinsou and he finds you a job at his agency, you hold him every night he's home, you still help him with his own work (since you basically learnt the whole heroics course with him), and he lights up when he gets to introduce you to his found family. His mentor included.

(aizawa was quick to deduce you're either the manifestation of a quirk or likely your quirk allowed you to enter digital space but went wrong.) And was quick to assist you in legally obtaining documentation. Not at all a ploy to spend time with you and make sure you were okay for his protoge.

You do find yourself able to re enter computers with your quirk, but the usb never manifests again, you come and go, even on Shinsou phone during missions so you can stay discreetly beside him. You try not to think about what might have happened if no one had found you, if it had been someone with a less pure heart than Shinsou. For this reason, you believed firmly in fate. After all, when shinsou designed you, he didn't have an option to choose your personality or demenor, that was all you.

Like you were just waiting for the right person to make you feel alive.

[forgottenarthur]

In Ruins | Arthur, Roderick, Eilia, Aria, etc...

Another step. Another. Up and up and up they rose before him, unending as the Kolchean ouroboros. And not a soul was speaking. For all the attendants traipsing and tripping after their god-given Emperor, a strange breathy silence pervaded, headed by the sullen-faced ó Réaltaí sisters (as the Staffords were now, evidently, to be called) and maintained by Roderick's many retainers, half-gasping with the interminable climb. The silence was a veil and Arthur felt twitchy, his fingers beating a tattoo against his thigh as he walked and walked.

"You Astairans certainly were not in jest when you claimed to live amongst the stars, I see."

Silence. Arthur detested silence. He'd always dested it, and he detested it now most of all. It was tense; it was subdued. And he didn't know what Aria was thinking...

Or anyone else. His father, for instance, or even...He glanced around to catch another face, half-desperate to prove there were other feelings which concerned him. Eilionora. No. But he wasn't supposed to care what she thought: she was the enemy. Still. He cared even less for what Sir Gregory thought.

Huffing, he shrugged. "I think I shall be eighty years old by the time we reach the top!"

"And here I imagined," began Eilionora, tone condescending. "A knight might be glad of such exercise."

"I--" Arthur frowned, rankling against the comment and struggling to invent a sufficient retort, when at last daylight (dying, by now, he saw) broke upon them. "At last!"

By the time Arthur gained the room, a world of ancient plaster featuring a tiny stone window in its concave surface. His father was already there, attendants arrayed about him like the streaming light of the sun, itself painting all in Arthur's own red. Eilionora stood opposite him, her expression fierce and determined, with her sister at her side and, fobidding as Aria looked, Arthur found himself drifting towards her.

Looking up, then, Arthur saw the look on his father's face. "Shit."

This was an expression well known to Arthur: triumphant and gleaming. The emperor was about to make the weight of whatever victory he'd won felt. "You thought to keep it from us," began Roderick, eyes glowing. "You strove and you strove, but every trace of your heathen gods will now be expunged."

Arthur felt Aria's eyes on him, but he could not pull his gaze from his father. Turning, Roderick grinned knowingly and suddenly thrust his arm directly through a wall.

"Father!" Arthur cried, starting forward. He stopped short. The emperor was unhurt and, in fact, a hole now stood in the wall where his hand once had been.

"A crafty illusion, to be sure," gloated Roderick. "Who'd think to vellum up a wall? Painted so precisely as to look to be pure plaster. But your woman's trick has come to naught."

Snapping, Roderick gestured and, at once, his attendants got to the business of tearing down the wall.

"God," breathed Arthur.

Roderick's gaze flicked towards him. "Why do you stand by them, Arthur?"

Arthur glanced hastily at the ladies. Swallowed. "To ensure they do not attempt to flee."

Roderick frowned.

"Your inevitable victory is something they really ought to see, Your Imperial Majesty."

Satisfied, Roderick smiled triumphantly at Eilionora, and nodded to Arthur. Aria glared at him. The emperor turned as a broad, wooden door was revealed and, with some difficulty, prized open by the attendants.

Now, it was to file into the room. Two servants went first -- to ensure the safe passage of the glorious presence behind them against any booby traps -- then the emperor went through followed by his attendants and lastly the ladies, with Arthur bringing up the train.

The door was low and ancient he saw, its planks turned half to stone by unimaginable age and, curious, Arthur swept his fingers along it as he passed through. The soul, he was told, was recurring. Had some version of him ever touched this wood before, perhaps its gentle-growing branches before it had been cut. Stooping to pass under the lintel, Arthur was temporarily blinded by a blanket of dark, limpid eyes narrowing as he stumbled a step or two inside.

He emerged into a vault of starlight as the last vestiges of day gave way to velvet-soft night, the firmament dotted with twinkling starlight, caught in a veil of midnight. It seemed a thousand, thousand stars glittered in the liquid night and that, if Arthur only stretched out his hand, he might just touch them with the edges of his fingertips.

"God be good," whispered Arthur. "I've never seen so many stars."

Glancing about him, he took in the ruins all about him -- a shattered dome, floor-to-ceiling arches that may once have contained windows now gaping over a yawning chasm.

"Do you know what this room is, Arthur?"

"No," he said, curiously glancing around him. "What is this place?"

It seemed to him that each lain stone was blue as lapis lazuli -- perhaps was lapis lazuli! -- and inset with ivory or some such so that stars were inset even into the very stones that strained to shelter them against the heedless sky above. Stretching out a hand, he laid it flat against one wall, cautiously approaching the casements to peer over the side of the mountain. Nothing but open sky greeted his gaze.

"How far up are we?"

"This is the crest of the mountain, Arthur."

He straightened, turned back towards his father. "What?!" he demanded. " Then--then this is--"

"Yes, the so-called Vault of the Heavens, the Cathedral of Stars, and other such: the very spot where their heathen goddess is said to have once set foot, according to some legends; where the shards of starlight were found from which their familial swords were forged. This," Roderick pointed down, grinning now in the pale starlight. "This is the most sacred place in all of Stafford."

Arthur glanced down at his feet, some sensation half like guilt springing vine-like across him, before his gaze shot suddenly to Aria, her own gaze now trained, relentless, upon Roderick.

"Now," continued Roderick, even his tone a gloat. "Where are those craters where the stars touched the earth? They're in this very room..."

Arthur's gaze did not leave Aria's face and, though it was hard to tell in the streaming starlight, he thought perhaps he saw tears sparkling at the edges of her eyes. His throat tightened. Arthur's hands closed to fists.

"Fill them in, shall we?" continued Roderick. "And bring what's left of this place to the ground. No trace of this heresy shall remain once I've done."

It was misery on her face, bleak and utter. She seemed to look at the walls, to the sky, as if they spike to her, friends soon to be shattered. A loss as deep as her name. Gritting his teeth, Arthur turned abruptly to his father, but Eilionora beat him to it. She was...laughing. Arthur watched fury dawn upon Roderick's face, unfurling like a plume of liquid flame over obsidian-dark granite. Sneer for sneer and glare for glare, emperor and former queen stared one another down.

She came forward. "No original ideas, have you? Do you know some of my own ancestors had a similar notion. Their great hall might prove more useful, they believed, otherwise. They tried everything they could -- every earthly tool there is: stone to cover up and concrete to pour. They even attempted, when that did not work, to flatten the rest of the earth. In every case, their tools came away bent and broken. The goddess shelters this place still. You can no more raze this site than they!"

Roderick's face was granite, craggy rocks -- brow and nose and lips -- etched with statuesque ire. As Roderick moved to close the gap between himself and his would-be bride, Arthur stepped forward.

Arthur had seen his mother do this a thousand times. Surely...surely he could do it, too. Oh, he could not employ precisely the same tactics she did: what Roderick might find favorable in a woman would prove repulsive to him in a man, but the principles still stood. He could move the Emperor, if he chose. Surely he could. He simply never had. But surely, surely he could. And he would. Just this once. Just this once, he would...

Slowly he began to clap, letting boastful swagger into his step as he strode forward, placing himself between the emperor and the ladies, and turning a look of perfect arrogance upon the one-time queen. He'd perfected this look long ago. One in eternal competition had to.

"It was a fine attempt, my lady," he laughed. "But did you imagine the God's Chosen would fall for so obvious a ploy?"

"Ploy? It is no--"

Laughing, again, Arthur held up a hand to silence her and turned towards his father, clapping him on the shoulder. "The hubris of women excels everything."

He felt Roderick's gaze heavy upon him. Here it was. The moment. Everything hinged on what he said next. It wasn't a betrayal of Roderick, he told himself. What he said could be true! And there was Aria, lovely and lonely as the stars above, tears radiant with the same silver light. He couldn't stand by and watch. How could anyone bear the misery on Aria's face? No. He had to act. He had to.

"Imagine, trying to goad an emperor into cheating himself of his greatest prize!"

Arthur was careful not to look at Aria. He felt the weight of her look, but he did not turn. He hoped she saw what he was doing -- but he doubted it as well. She'd just see the hateful swaggering prince too easily bent by his father's will: the one she'd always detested leaping out again: throwing her beliefs in her sister's face; laughing at them both. Still, it was better, Arthur told himself, better than the alternative. It was the best he could do.

"When this is the seat of power she's been guarding, the secret she's been holding onto!"

Roderick's eyes were fastened on Arthur, and the prince knew his father would not ask for clarification: he would not wish to admit to anyone that he did not see what Arthur was getting at. But Arthur would have to be careful in that, too. He couldn't let his father realize that Arthur knew he wasn't following.

"It's like a woman, isn't it? To try to manipulate you into destroying the very thing that gives her power over the Astairan people." He turned his gaze on the queen, then, found her expression contoured with rage...and confusion. "This is it, after all, isn't it? This is the reason they follow you? This place? That lost blasted sword! You blind them with symbols of power till they believe in you and nothing else! You must hate your people in truth: to wish further unrest on them, rather than cede to peace under someone else! You'd rather this place reduced to rubble, wouldn't you, than see its power put into the hands of your conqueror?"

Roderick's hand was heavy on Arthur's shoulder. He was behind him, and Arthur couldn't see his face. Was it ire? His clever father had seen the betrayal in him, and now his cruel wrath would fall upon Arthur's mother and brother and sister as well as himself! The hand was heavy enough. But it lingered, too. Was it encouragement, then, a kind of thanks for showing him...what was, in fact, a lie? A rotten son, indeed, and to both parents, it seemed. Arthur swallowed hard.

"Easy, Arthur," his father said. "We cannot fault her for trying. It can be no easy thing to see one's seat of power fall into another's hands for a second time, I am sure."

Arthur heaved a deep breath, pressing his eyes closed. It had worked. And then he heard Eilionora laughing again.

Roderick gestured and the ladies were led away. Arthur did not dare look at Aria. He had saved her sacred site for her, yes, but could she forgive him for the means? And did she know it had been his intention? And, god, he had betrayed his own honored father in so doing! Perhaps he deserved punishment, after all. And, he thought, he'd suffer it all gladly. God, what was becoming of him?

It was Arthur's turn to laugh. And putting his hands to his face, he did.

[cthulhusstepmom]

Fae!Soap Superstitious Bastard! Ghost: Gifts

(Just a heads up this got way more intense than I meant it to but that’s kind of the Fae for you.)

TW: mentions of torture, human remains

Soap is a collector, though not of any one thing that Ghost can discern. He’s seen the man pick up anything from an abandoned rolex to a nondescript piece of broken glass. It doesn’t seem to be about size, it’s not shape and definitely not value; Ghost had thought he’d pinned it down as things that caught the light a certain way but was swiftly proven wrong when Soap went on a spree of collecting pebbles and sticks. He’d glared sullenly at the first jagged gray rock when Soap had picked it up before swiftly changing the subject when he was noticed. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to any of it… well not quite. There was one singular pattern that stood out in his mind, a single thread that held firm no matter how much he rearranged or plucked at it.

 Anything that Ghost gave him, Johnny kept. 

The first had been a bit of pretty blue ribbon that was a close enough approximation to Soap’s eyes. It’d snagged on a bramble bordering the clearing where Ghost had set up for overwatch. Without even thinking he’d snagged it on his way to RV down the hill, offering it to Johnny in the armored car taking them back to base. Soap hadn’t said a thing. It was then that Ghost realized maybe giving your subordinate a piece of trash you’d found in a bush perhaps wasn’t the most well adjusted way to express affection. He’d been about to play it off with a quip, beginning to retract his fingers ever so slightly, when Johnny snatched it lightning quick from the palm of his hand, holding it close to his chest for a moment before stuffing it into his chest pocket next to his journal. Soap had given him a small strangled “Thank you” as they sat the rest of the ride in an awkward but warm silence. Johnny disappeared almost immediately after they got back to base but Ghost could see light in the space under his door so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done permanent damage to their relationship.

After that his eyes just seemed to catch on things that he assumed Johnny would like. He couldn’t help it. Little glass marbles, a river stone with an interesting marking, a large brown feather; Somehow it all made its way into the hands of his Sergeant. Usually with a gruff “Here”, barely waiting for Johnny to hold out his hands before he dropped his small offering into his gloved palms. Soap has also gotten over whatever his episode of silence had been, responding with a blinding smile and enthusiastic gratitude and a happy quip. (“Thanks Lt!” a piece of antler, Montana “Y’ shouldn’t have!” an old toy car, Finland “Find this on sale?” a scrap of pink fabric, Brazil “Ghost you’re spoiling me.” green river stone, India etc.(no he didn’t catalog all of them that would be creepy. He only wrote down his favorites.))

The next time Ghost thinks he’s permanently damaged their relationship and scared Soap off for good comes after an operation sweeping out an AQ base in Afghanistan. 

It’s stuffy and dark, the blistering heat of the day beginning to fade into the bitter chill of the night. The compound has long since been abandoned by all but the stubbornest of rats, slowly being reclaimed by the wild desert it carved its blackness into. They roll into the courtyard through the open front gate, the outer walls have seen multiple breacher charges and calling them walls at this point is more out of respect than any dedication to accuracy. The whole place has already been swept by drone and Laswell has had satellite eyes on it for months confirming just how fucking dead it is. They’re here for information, the drone identified documents left behind as well as at least two hard drives. 

The 141 has split off, each clearing their own section and radioing in at even intervals, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Beyond extra caution, the whole place has an eerie, black aura that drags forth memories of scorpion stings and dull knives biting at his flesh. Assisting in his nightmarish stroll down memory lane, Ghost is assigned the lower levels of the compound. Each room is another scene from a past he tries to forget, filled with rusted over implements of pain and brown stains no one cared to clean. 

Something in the last room makes him pause. 

A small barred window allows light from a waning moon to pool into the room, catching on something on the table. Small, most no bigger than his fingernail, a collection of about five objects sits in a tray on the corner of the table. Brilliant white patches shine in stark opposition to the bed of rust brown they lay on. 

Teeth. Human teeth.

His mind is acting on autopilot when grabs them and stuffs them in a pocket, so similar but so different to his first experience with the ribbon months ago. He finishes his sweep of the room, conveying his findings back on comms (“Seems like we’re late for the party.” “If only you didn’t take so long to get ready.”-Soap “Shut the fuck up the both of you I just saw a rat the size of a terrier.”-Gaz “I’ve got the hard drives if any of you fuckers remember why we’re here.”-Price), and turns back to rendezvous, his mind now firmly on finding his comrades and getting the hell out.

As they start readying themselves to duck into the humvees they arrived in, Ghost’s muscle memory kicks in to complete his self assigned mission objective. He turns to where Soap stands almost expectantly at his side. It’s not every mission that he has something he’s decided is a worthy offering but it has become more often than not. Mind already halfway back to base, a gloved hand chases down each tooth where they’ve burrowed themselves in the pocket of his tac vest, collecting them and dropping them in Soap’s proffered hand with a grunt. His brain turns back on when the bloody bones hit his Sergeant’s glove, panicking because what the fuck did he just do? What kind of fucking sociopath gives his friend(more?) human fucking teeth as a souvenir. Much less human fucking teeth that were pulled forcibly out of some poor bastard’s skull during a bygone torture session. 

His hand is trembling. 

Ghost forces himself to look down and meet Soap’s assuredly outraged and disgusted gaze. 

Only he doesn���t.

Johnny is staring down at the teeth in his palm with a look of fucking reverence. His pupils are dilated beyond just the darkness surrounding them and Ghost’s detail oriented eyes catch the slight flare of his nostrils on every inhale. Soap slowly tilts his head up to meet Ghost’s eyes and a gasp lives and dies in his throat.

“Oh Simon, you treat me so well.” His voice is gravelly and thrumming with an emotion that Ghost doesn’t know the name of. But, god if this is the look he gets after bringing Johnny desiccated human remains?

He’ll rip the teeth out of some unworthy son of a bitch himself.

[dix0nvix3n]

Imagine it's 1992, a 23 year old Daryl Dixon is at a party he happened to stumble across. Everything is going well. Parties where Daryl didn't know anyone were much easier, they allowed him to be a little more loose and carefree.

Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine is blaring through the speakers in the house. Everyone at the party is crowded together, jumping, spilling their red solo cups as beer flies everywhere as Daryl and everyone else collectively yell the outro of the song, “Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!!”, over and over again.

When all of a sudden Daryl hears, “IT'S FIVE-O, SCRAM!!”, and now he's jumping through an open window and running into the woods.

Luckily he's not a lightweight so he only stumbles a little as he runs through the woods for the life of him. After he had been running for a long while he finally reaches the edge of the forest and takes a deep breath of relief as he sees a gas station.

Once he reaches the gas station he checks his watch and it reads 1:00 AM and he facepalms himself as he begrudgingly steps into a phone booth.

A few seconds of ringing and the other end answers, “Can ya come an' pick me up?”, he says to a very tired and pissed off Merle.

[puppyeared]

Been LOVING your lil magician folks recently please continue they're beautiful and very cute and cool and also very well-designed!! 🥺❤️

thank you for the kind words !!! im not much of a writer, but i do have some sort of story in mind for them.. theyre bitter rivals who end up as roommates bc of their scatterbrained elderly landlord lol

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Eddie skims the books on the shelf in front of him, there was no use in trying to find one he was actually interested in. He was just going to end up forgetting about it and picking up one of the lord of the rings books again. Instead he just lets himself wander through his thoughts. Letting his body go in autopilot as his fingers gently brush the spines of dozens of books.

He should be in gym class, but he isn’t. The consequences of skipping were far better than those of actually showing up. The last time he went (over a month ago now) he ended up walking out with a chipped tooth and black eye. And he can’t forget about the bruised ego.

Walking at the end of one aisle, he carefully turns and moves himself into the next. Preparing to loop through said aisle again but nearly jumping out of his skin when he nearly falls over another person. A person who was sitting down, back pressed to the shelf he was walking the corner of.

A croak like noise comes out of the back of his throat as he nearly tumbles face first into carpeting. Stumbling forward a bit and catching balance on the shelf to the left of him. Secretly praying to all that’s holy that he didn’t somehow know the entire shelf over.

“Jesus H Christ.” He spits out, a hand pressed against his chest as he dramatically breathes heavier then normal. Putting on a show for whoever nearly killed him. Turning around to face the culprit he nearly jumps back again startled.

Sitting, pretty pathetically Eddie would say, was a very beat up Steve Harrington. Who looked like a horror book came to life. His eyes, or eye was a bit glossed over and wide as he starts stuttering over his words a bit. Obviously having a moment before Eddie came along and crashed the party.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up like that.” Steve visibly cringes at his own words, as if he was also aware he seemed pathetic.

“Eh- it’s alright. Not the first time a king has tried taking me out.” He grins, before faltering a bit as he remembers that the other wouldn’t understand his DnD campaign reference.

He begins to walk away, wanting the entire awkward interaction to be over. But he can’t help but be just a bit nosy as his eyes glance down at the book in Steve’s lap. It probably had been open at one point, but it was now closed and Eddie is secretly thankful he can read upside down.

“Head injuries huh?” He points out. “Didn’t take you for a reader King Steve.” He drags the other’s name out a bit longer than he has to as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocking a hip out. He didn’t personally enjoy talking with asshole jocks, but what he did enjoy was knowing some things. He liked having some lore for the people around him.

“I’m not.” Steve snorts as he lifts the book up. “Just trying to do some research, I don’t know if you have eyes or anything but my face is pretty smashed in right now.” He retorts back with a little bit of sass. Eddie notes how his words slur up a bit, like he was drunk. But Eddie could spot a drunk anywhere and Steve Harrington seemed a hundred percent sober.

Furrowing his eyebrows, just a bit concerned he doesn’t let up the banter. Purposely forcing his eye lids open with one hand and jokingly pressing the finger tip against his eye before pulling back. Blinking the tears out of his slightly agitated right eye as he brings two thumbs up and comments, “we are in the clear I, Eddie Munson, let the record show, have eyeballs.” He grins dramatically.

“Want a gold star for that poncho.” Steve snorts, shaking his head a bit obviously amused. His body tensed up a bit as he goes a bit pale for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut with shaky breathes as his fists tighten around the book he was holding.

“Yes I do in fact want a gold star-” Eddie mumbles out gently, face scrunching up a bit more worried now as he moves his crossed arms from off his chest and moves a few steps closer to the other.

“Hey Harrington, you alright? You don’t seem like your typical charming self.” He comments as he hesitates for a moment before he crouches down. Leaving a few inches between the two of them.

Steve gives a weak nod of his head before he adjusting himself. “Yeah- just moves my head too much. Happens sometimes you know?” He chuckles gently.

“Oh thank god, you were looking a little green. Was worried you were about to hulk out on me buddy.” Eddie jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Lifting his hand up and running one of his rings against the bottom of his lip before glancing back down at the book.

“Find anything good in there, or are you just holding it for show?” Eddie asks gently, trying to come off a bit more teasing.

Steve snorts again, sounding a bit stressed as he nearly shakes his head no again but stopped ps himself. “No, couldn’t even make it through the first page without wanting to throw up.” He groans as he quickly adds. “Not because I don’t want to read it, it’s just the words won’t sit still and it hurts my eyes which then hurts my head.” He groans as he opens his eyes back up fully and looks down at the book with a little huff.

“Could always get a nerd to do your homework for you,” Eddie jokes, slightly hinting towards Wheeler. “Heard that girlfriend of yours had a decent brain on her, she seems like the type to understand that you’ll need help.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at the other.

Steve makes a noise that Eddie can’t even place, it sounded like the mixture of a laugh and a snort combined. “Can’t, I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with Byers. Don’t want to feel any more stupid around her.” He mumbles the last sentence out.

Eddie looks a bit surprised, he hadn’t taken Mrs Priss to be a cheater. Though he furrows his eyebrows again in thought. “If you give me a twenty I’ll read that book for you and try answering any questions you have.”

Eddie didn’t want to seem completely like a sweetheart, he had to keep up the image he had going on or else people wouldn’t take him seriously during deals. And he didn’t want to ruin said image to Steve Harrington of all people.

Steve squints his good eye at Eddie suspiciously, “I’ll pay you a hundred if you don’t mention this to anybody else.”

Eddie feels a little bit shitty for doing this but an image had to be kept.

“You’ve got yourself a deal Harrington.” His grin isn’t fully authentic as he takes the book from the other and does a playful salute as he stands up fully and begins to walk away.

[fishfingersandscarves]

little ice age

"The weather's turning." 

"So it is." 

Hob adjusted his scarf. 

"It used to be so cold, I remember. In what? Eighteen fifty something? No-" He tugged on his scarf again, thinking. Dream watched silently. 

“That's when it ended- it ended that year. But the last time was… eighteen fourteen or something, I think. When the Thames froze over." 

"The Little Ice Age." 

"Ah yeah! You'd think I'd remember the name, considering it spanned the majority of my life." He laughed. Dream listed towards the sound, a moth to a flame. He allowed himself this: they bumped shoulders, once. The heat off of Hob was a furnace, radiating, a corona of magnetizing energy, of life. The air crackled with it. 

Dream looked out across the water, away from him. 

"The Thames?" 

"Yes, sorry. The Thames. It froze." 

"So you said." 

Hob chuckled. "Yes. I went out and rented some skates. I was rubbish at it, couldn't get my left knee to bend, had to skate all on my right leg which was hell on my knees. Kept wobbling like a fawn and almost falling on my arse. But the chill kissed my cheeks and the air rubbed my nose raw and I loved it all the same." He sighed wistfully. "Nothing like the danger of falling through ice to get one's spirits up." He smiled at his own joke. 

Dream hummed. "I recall dreams of elephants then." 

"Oh there were! And magicians and pick-pockets a plenty. Carnival games and such. It was a whole event." 

Hob kicked at the wet grass near his feet. 

"Not so much anymore." 

[akirakirxaa]

[Takes place in An Echo Calling Me, the verse where Hyth and Hades return after Ultima Thule. Written as a prompt fill for @sylaurin, who gave me a few prompts but this one was for 'sharing a secret'.]

Akira stared out at the deep blue of the ocean, the sun painting the sky a soft orange as the sun set. Despite the joy that seemed to permeate Tuliyollal, she didn’t feel it. It was as if it were all at arm’s length, like she was some kind of beast in a cage looking out at it — separate in all ways. And no matter how welcome she was made to feel, it was almost as if she were…afraid to let her guard down.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she didn’t notice someone approaching.

“There you are!” Akira started in surprise before turning to see Hythlodaeus approaching. He’d changed into an outfit reminiscent of the locals, most of it dyed in familiar black, though the collar and accents were dyed in his favored lavender. Akira managed a tired smile in greeting before turning back to the ocean.

“Enjoying yourself?” she questioned as he settled at her back, reaching around either side to support himself on the rope railings. He dropped a quick peck on the top of her head.

“Always.” Oh, how she wished she could be as carefree as he was. “But what’s bothering you?” Akira frowned out at the water; she didn’t want to burden him, but she also knew if she didn’t tell him he would just continue to prod at her until she told him.

Or worse, go get Hades. And Akira swore he must have mind reading powers because she couldn’t seem to hide anything from him.

“I… I suppose I just feel like…” She struggled to put words to it, this knotting in her chest and this distance she felt. “I don’t know how to be just…a person.”

“But you are a person!” he lightly teased, and she gently elbowed him.

“I meant more…” Akira gave a heavy sigh, brow furrowed as she searched for the words. “All I’ve been since I lost my memories at Carteneau is ‘The Warrior of Light’. I don’t know how to just be…normal.” They stood together in silence, and when a cool breeze blew by, she was grateful for his warmth.

“Well, maybe you can use this as your chance to figure that out,” Hythlodaeus suggested. “Now that the world isn’t going to end if you take a breather, you can find out what you like to do when you’re not laying waste to your enemies.” She chuckled.

“I suppose so. As long as there’s no Allagan ruins behind a rock or something,” Akira gave a wry smirk.

“We can certainly hope not,” he replied, tucking his head against the top of hers and pulling her against him. Akira relaxed into the embrace with a sigh.

Yes, maybe she could use some normalcy for once.

[dracocheesecake]

First Date

Based on an idea inspired by @tranquilskies2

(I deviated a little)

Life, awareness, existence- he had been brought back from oblivion, his soul and body gathered and renewed…and he didn't even have a second to enjoy the sheer bliss of it, before he was drained, defeated, and shoved into a tiny cage, by an even tinier opponent. 

Needless to say, General Kai was already regretting this second chance at existing. He groaned, then slowly tried to move his limbs into a less cramped position- not easy, with the bars on every side, and his body still being as weak as it was. 

Oh, but no, he didn’t even get a chance to try to get comfortable: soon a bunch of those lizards with spears surrounded his cage, moving it onto a cart of some sort (only after a lot a jostling- the heavy metal and his own significant weight made sure of that, a massive burden for such thin limbs). They loaded him on, then rolled him to some other part of the…wherever he was. Palace? Prison? 

Kai peeked from between the bars of his cage, trying to see what was going on- but he seemed to be the only one being transported. He furrowed his brow. 

“Hey, where are we going?” He demanded. “Why am I being moved?” 

No response from his guards. Well, he had expected that; still annoying, though. He huffed and grabbed the bars as best as he could. 

“Hey, what are you- HEY!” 

The door of his cage was opened, and he was dumped into a large room. Kai landed on the hard floor with a grunt. Pain like pins and needles shocked his recently- revived nervous system. That was why he was too slow to escape before they removed the cage and closed the heavy door behind him, leaving him for the moment alone. Kai laid as he was, trying to calculate how he might be able to sit up without too much pain. 

It didn’t work out, so he decided to stay as he was, a pathetic lump on the floor. There was no telling how long he remained like that, until some feeling and ability to move came back to his limbs, and he was finally able to sit up and observe his surroundings. The room he was in was large, dome-shaped, with an entrance behind him and an exit before him- but both blocked up by round sliding doors- too heavy for him to move in this state; but even if he could, opening either wouldn’t lead to escape; too many guards, and he hadn’t his power. 

But why had he been moved here from his cage? Separated from the others? Why not anyone else?- He was puzzling this over when the door behind him opened again, and four more guards entered, one of which carried a pile of fine silks, carefully folded. He placed it down in front of Kai while the other three surrounded him with spears; Kai thought about how lucky they were, that he couldn’t take their chi. 

“Our Supreme Mistress wishes you to wear this,” the iguana before him said with a flourish of his arm. Kai raised his brows. 

“Who?” 

“The Chameleon,” all four said, and then two of the guards behind him pushed him down until his face was nearly to the floor while the third put handcuffs on him. 

“What are you-?!” 

Next thing he knew, the robes were on him, and now four little birds were in the room with all sorts of implements in fine boxes and on silk cushions. Before he could process exactly what was happening, his hair was being brushed, some sort of rice powder was applied to his face, something else to his lips, his eyes- and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

Then he was up on his feet, being shoved towards the exit door with the points of many spears digging into the skin of his back; not that he feared them. He was immortal, so what were spears to someone who had been ripped from the Spirit Realm and back again twice already? 

The other door rolled aside. He went through, the cuffs were removed, and then the guards left the room, closing the door again behind them. Kai shouted a curse at them in mongolian, then turned to squint suspiciously at the rest of the room bathed in the lantern light. A long, low table was laid out- almost too low for him, or most people. On it was a banquet fit for an emperor, an array of fine foods piled high on exquisite platters, all on a table cloth of fine yellow silk. Red paper lanterns carefully lit the scene; but it wasn't just the dim lighting that made it hard for Kai to see his host. 

Fortunately, the way the table was laid out made it so his eye was forced to follow a pathway towards the far end, where she sat on a silk cushion: the tiny sorceress, his jailer, the Chameleon. 

Damn the unfair size advantage; if he had had any of his power left, he would have rushed at her and drained her instantly of every drop of chi and wore her as an amulet for the rest of time- but at the moment, it was all he could do to remain standing, and keep his shaking legs from betraying his weakness. So he had to content himself with sitting contemptuously across from her (and not collapsing into place). 

The Chameleon smiled. “About time you showed up. I almost worried that my guards were too incompetent to bring you from one room into another. Did you put up a fight?” 

The last part was said with a light note of mockery that made Kai snort. He picked up the pair of chopsticks laying by his plate and started stuffing his mouth full of dumplings- he wasn't hungry, as a Spirit Warrior he had no need to eat, but she seemed the type to be annoyed at bad table etiquette. 

“I wish. You're all just lucky that I don't have my strength right now,” he said between mouthfuls, “because if I did-” 

The Chameleon arched her brows and placed a delicate, frail little hand on her thin chest, as if scandalized. 

“Now, General Kai! No need to be so hostile! Especially towards the one who saved your soul from the depths of oblivion- but I understand, all the same: you're used to draining others of their power, so I suppose it only makes sense that you'd be a little sour, now that someone has drained you.” 

Kai swallowed. “Well there's a good question: what exactly did you ‘drain’ me of? That wasn't just chi.” He looked at his arms, holding them out in front of him and flexing them a little, rolling and stretching his wrists; they still felt as weak as cooked noodles, even now. He grimaced. 

She laughed with a lilt with lightning in it, something loud and powerful, and Kai found he liked it. He had always respected power, and strength, and she had both- despite her diminutive size. 

The realization disturbed him. He probed the feeling a little, trying to decide what it really was; maybe his mind was still hazy after the draining. 

She propped her elbows up on the table and folded her hands neatly in front of her, with as much elegance as an empress. Then she laid her little pointed chin on her bony fingers. Kai thought she looked delicate, like the finest porcelain dishes; but the grin that spread over her face and the manic gleam in her eye wasn't so. It bespoke the true nature hiding under the fragile surface: an insatiable demonic hunger for power, an evil that could barely be contained in such a tiny vessel. 

“Oh, no, not quite, but similar. I was inspired by you,” she said. 

That made Kai perk up. His ego, so recently and constantly wounded, began to heal. Still, he managed to sound only casually interested. 

“Oh?” 

Her manic grin widened. Kai thought her face was going to split in half- but it was cute to him, in a strange way.  “Oh, yes. I've kept close tabs on the Dragon Warrior's history- and Grandmaster Oogway's, even more so. No self-respecting, supposed ‘kung fu fanatic’ wouldn’t. And obviously, that meant knowing a little of your history, too.” 

Kai picked up his porcelain cup and swirled the rice wine around in it. He drained the tiny cup in one sip, then picked up the decanter itself and took a long swill. He belched. 

“So what? You're a fan or something? What do you want? My autograph?” A smirk pulled at the corner of his lip, though in truth, there was a sense of genuine excitement behind the thought: finally, after all of these centuries, some recognition! 

“Hm. No,” she said. “Not quite.” 

Well, there went his hopes, shattering into pieces to stab his ego again. He grit his teeth, leaning back insouciantly. 

“I'm more of a Tai Lung fan, really,” she continued, “but you were still a source of inspiration. You know: ‘collecting’ masters of kung fu from both realms, using their skills for yourself?” 

Kai narrowed his eyes. The pieces were coming together. He lowered the decanter. 

“...You took my skills.” 

“And some other things, too,” she said. 

“Like what?” 

“A sorceress never reveals her secrets,” she answered, smooth as the fine silk she wore. 

Kai set his jaw. He respected it, in a way, but her response made him uneasy- she in her entirety made him uneasy- but that response, the cool, almost joking way in which she so casually spoke about her magic, draining him and others of their power and strength- it was something else; and the worst part was, it made him like her even more. He swallowed another mouthful of dumplings loudly. 

“But I inspired this ‘secret’ of yours.” He leaned an elbow on the table, enjoying the brief twitch of her eyelid as he did so. He tried to look and sound less uncomfortable than he was. He glanced up at the ceiling, stroking his beard in thought. 

“I think I can figure this out: it does involve chi, obviously, that much is certain. You couldn't do it otherwise, and live- as a mortal, at least. Also the ‘collecting’ of previous and current masters-” 

“With some exceptions, involving the Dragon Warrior's foes,” the Chameleon supplemented. 

Kai nodded and gestured to her. “The peacock, I noticed that much. A means of hitting his psyche, I assume?” 

“Your assumption is correct,” she said. 

Kai nodded at this with an appreciative hum. “An underhanded strategy, but I respect it. The battle is one of the mind, first. The panda isn't as stupid and weak as he looks, though: I know from personal experience.” 

“I actually wanted to speak to you about that- you know, get some pointers before I face off against him and all,” she said. 

Kai swished the rice wine around in the decanter. “Well, first of all: don't underestimate him for a second.” 

“Obviously. That's why I summoned you and the others.” 

He snorted again. “Oh, well I guess you think you're going to do better,” he said disdainfully. 

“Well, only after learning from the Best,” she said. “I did go over the records- eyewitness accounts I've gleaned in disguise, journalist reports, what have you- and I find it hard to believe that the panda beating you wasn't just dumb luck.” 

That made Kai pause. His eyes were still on the decanter, but his ear flickered in her direction, as is saying ‘go on’. 

“I mean, General Kai? Beaten by a silly, fat panda who spent one minute learning to master chi and just understands it instantly? Versus a Master of the art?” The Chameleon scoffed. “Ridiculous.” 

Kai grunted. “I always thought so, myself. He had an unfair advantage, what with all of the other pandas backing him up. I actually came this close to having him in my own collection, but nooo- then he starts glowing- because of all of the pandas giving him their chi, where they learned that all of a sudden I don't know- breaks out of my jade, and then boom! Fight over.” 

He slammed the decanter down, steam puffing from his nostrils. The Chameleon watched him, her eyes sparkling, claws digging into the table with rapt excitement. 

“Really? What happened- tell me everything,” she said. 

That was all she needed to say: the floodgates opened, and Kai found himself spilling out every detail, sparing nothing as he vented his tale of woe and humiliation (with proper editing, of course- he had to save some of his image). He knew he shouldn't tell her too much- but he couldn’t help himself. The way she listened with rapt attention and interest, the way she added exclamations of sympathy now and again, was such that his pride could not resist giving in. 

“-Then he pulls the Wuxi Finger Hold trick again- on himself this time, grabbing me along with him- and it works! Taking me and him back to the Spirit Realm-” 

“What?! After it didn't work on you? That's so stupid that it's almost genius!” 

Kai snorted. “I know, right? And then, like I said, I started beating him, and almost had him on my belt before he just suddenly broke free-” 

“At just the right moment, too.” 

“Exactly. And then he made himself a chi dragon of some sort- with an outfit change and everything-” 

The Chameleon scoffed. “Cliché!” 

Kai laughed. “Right! And if that wasn't bad enough…” he cleared his throat a bit, hesitant in his embarrassment at the memory of his defeat. “...he uses said dragon to slurp up one of my blades like a noodle…” 

“No,” she gasped in disbelief. 

Kai nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “and that's not even the most humiliating part: one of my chains ended up wrapped around my ankle, and he dragged me through the Spirit Realm, sending me crashing through every rock island along the way-” 

Suddenly the sorceress bristled and slammed her thin fist into the table. “How dare he!” 

To his surprise, she actually got up and began to pace on her end of the table, rushing back and forth, shaking her head and hissing and rambling from under her breath, between clenched teeth. 

“Has he no propriety?! The supposed successor of Grandmaster Oogway the Magnificent, and he doesn't even pretend to have any sort of modesty or respect for his opponents, by honoring them with a graceful defeat! No, makes a show of it! A- a joke! How dare he?! How dare he?! How dare he?! That foolish-” 

She hissed and whispered frantically to herself for a moment, and the histrionics made Kai chuckle. “Don't pop a blood vessel, squirt,” he said, though he truly felt flattered that she should be so offended on his behalf. 

The sorceress seemed to collect herself again and resumed her seat, her face smoothing over any emotion like magic. 

“I apologize. I just can't believe that you were forced to face such indignities. I would have thought that the student of Master Shifu, mentored by Grandmaster Oogway himself-” 

“Oh, no, Oogway was like that, too,” Kai said. He felt his jaw clench, and it took effort to get the words out. “Oogway was always a gloating show-off who couldn't spare his enemies their dignity. So really, the panda's a perfect fit to fill that shell.” 

The Chameleon chuckled. Kai liked the sound of it. “He'll need to lay off the dumplings before he'll be able to squeeze into it.” 

Kai laughed, spitting out his drink. She laughed. Again, he felt that strange surge of liking warm in his chest, and he found himself powerless against it; could it be some sort of magic of hers, manipulating him?- But he didn't really feel enchanted. And as the dinner went on and their conversation turned towards other things- namely Kai's previous exploits in the Spirit Realm, and his battles and achievements- he found he liked her more and more. 

He didn't know how long they had been talking and laughing- only that eventually he noticed the candles in the lanterns were burning down. wn. Maybe a few hours had passed, though it hadn’t felt like it. Kai hadn’t had a conversation that good in centuries, not since he and Oogway were still friends. 

Nonetheless, though, it came to an end; maybe she was tired, or, as he supposed, had more pressing business to attend to, because soon the door behind him opened again, admitting his guard. Kai stood, offering no resistance. 

“Well, I guess this means dinner’s come to an end,” he said, bowing to her- a polite nothing, really, just a formality. 

“Unfortunately,” she agreed. “I’m expecting a certain guest of honor soon, and I have much work to do to prepare before then- other interviews, traps to lay, masters to collect- but it has been wonderful to speak with you.” 

“Same here,” Kai admitted. The Chameleon chuckled. 

“I will have to arrange another dinner with you before I face the Dragon Warrior. I am going to need more advice on how to combat that ‘panda style’ of his. And once again, I have to say I am sorry you suffered such humiliation at his paws. Perhaps I can avenge your honor, General.” 

Kai felt his face flush- he liked the way she said that: ‘general’, one of his titles. He knew he had been used, of course, he knew he was going back in that cage now that dinner was over, another piece in her collection, perhaps for all of eternity, if she really did beat the panda…but all the same, even knowing that, Kai couldn’t help but think that he would like to talk to her again. 

“We’ll see,” he said, and turned and left with the guards behind him.

[exit-pursued-by-a-squid]

Guys.

Scar didn't realize he'd killed Pearl at first.

He went looking for her in the ravine.

It took a message from Grian in the chat to make him realize he'd actually won the final duel.

Not only am I having massive third life flashbacks (the last time Scar was in the final duel he lost, he was beaten by his ally, he never expected to win this time, he said it multiple times this episode, he never thought he was going to make it) but the inherent tragedy of not realizing it's over yet is making me sob.

He knows what it's come down to, he knows one of them has to die by the other's hand. After five different death games, he's made as much peace with that as he can. But he thought they had a little more time. He thought that it wasn't quite over yet. Pearl was his friend, she was kind to him. She even offered herself up to him to earn him back some needed hearts and he refused. He'd finally made a friend, and he refused to let that be taken from him, he refused to be the villain he'd been forced to play all season. Not like this, not to Pearl.

And when it came down to just the two of them, he knew there was no ill will (there had been no ill will before, in the beginning, in a cactus ring in the desert, between bloody fists and broken bones and sand stinging in open wounds). He just thought there was a little more time left with her before the world went dark for one and then both of them.

And then he jumps into the ravine only to realize that she's gone. He's gained ten hearts and she's gone. He won. Maybe he should have savored those final blows and last words a little more. He didn't mean for it to end like this. Friendless 'til the bitter, sudden end.

[sisterdivinium]

Now is the time to place your bets on whether or not this hyper self-indulgent doctor superion Vampire the Masquerade AU fic will or won't get to 100 handwritten pages...

[phosphorescentspaceman]

The Redmatter Incident

It hurt. 

Ridgedog’s laughter was echoing somewhere in the background, artificially amplified by the deafening rush of blood in his ears and god almighty fuck it hurt - 

Xephos was sure he was dead. Things just didn’t hurt this much without being lethal - fuck it all he’d burned to death and it’d hurt less than this. It felt like he could feel each and every atom in his body and they were all being torn asunder. He left like a nuclear reaction made manifest, made man. A vessel being filled and filled and filled with white hot electricity, unable to overflow, unable to break. 

And then it didn’t. Something settled, or maybe something in his mind had crumbled because it didn’t hurt. The lack of pain hit like a shot of morphine to his heart and he swayed were he stood - 

He opened his eyes. He wasn’t standing. 

He uncurled from the hunched position he’d twisted himself into, observing the ground far below with a twisted sort of calm. It wasn’t anti-gravity, but an odd sort of lightness, like the power in his veins was stronger than that. He looked to the sky - sun just starting to set, the first stars and brightest planets beginning to dot the horizon. He didn’t have to stay. Ridgedog would have let him leave, in that moment he knew it more than anything. Ridgedog would have let him keep his powers and leave, let the world rot from the inside out because of that stupid bomb, because it would have been funny. 

He shook his head, hardly noticing the way he shed specks of raw energy like falling snow. He needed to set this to rights. 

It was - it was only - it was hard to care.

Ridgedog zipped over, shooting a cruel smirk his way. “How’s it going, spaceman? Liking the temporary godhood?” Xephos tilted his head in acknowledgement, missing the almost uncomfortable way Ridge watched his now placid expression.  “A little odd.” His voice felt hollow in his ears, pale and empty. “I’m not sure I much care for it, to be honest.” The energy, radiation, power in his veins sang softly, sweetly.

He didn’t like the tune.