#Ti Hang Lung & Co.

[protagaster]

Part 5 of the Warrior!Penelope Swap AU

I am not proud of the procrastination I felt completing this vignette...

Thank Blue for even getting this one in a timely manner!

Editor/Co-Author: the wonderful and spectacular @somereaderinblue (GeminiWillow on Ao3) <3

(Cross-Posted on Ao3)

Ares' Goodbye

Penelope and her crew had survived their encounter with the Cyclops, leaving him blind but alive to tell the tale. 

But to willingly leave an enemy alive, to force them to live with that shame and humiliation, it is unacceptable. Unacceptable to the spirit of honor, unacceptable to the etiquette of war… 

Unacceptable to Ares.

~

They had done it. Not all of the women who entered that cave made it out, but those who did had acquired enough of the necessary rations needed to make it back to Ithaca. 

Those who were left outside that dreadful cave, tasked with watching their friends’ backs and guarding the fleet of ships, could only gaze at their comrades with anxious and curious eyes; while they did not know what specifically happened inside that daunting, mysterious cave, they knew it must’ve been horrible.  

Horrible enough to leave those who exited the cave with glassy eyes and shuddering bodies, a sight they haven't seen since the earliest days of war.

Horrible enough to leave them with 72 fewer sisters than before.

Horrible enough for their Queen and captain to feel the need to personally make meaning of their deaths. 

Well, whatever it was that happened inside that cave, at least it was over. 

For all except one… 

Penelope breathed out, hard and heavy and weary. 

The scent of blood still lingered in her lungs. She breathed again, in, out, only slightly better this time. Again and again she'll keep breathing till it's gone entirely or refreshed to stay.

So much had happened in that one day, enough that any normal person would assume their life’s excitements and adventures would be fulfilled for the rest of their lives, and the sun had barely begun to set! 

Penelope would not complain if no more “adventure-worthy” dilemmas interrupted her and her crew from here on out. 

Penelope moved to let out another deep breath, this one aiming to feel much more relaxed compared to all her previous-

When that oh-so familiar rush of adrenaline penetrated her thoughts once more. 

Penelope no longer stood on the deck of her ship, surrounded by her fellow female soldiers. Now she stood in those scorching sandy plains, nothing ahead of her but dull golden sand and the familiar red hourglass, filled to the top with black and red sand, floating above her.

Everything looked the same as it usually did, but something about this time was different. 

Very different. 

Penelope felt not the usual courage and rage that made her more brave and resistant to pain, but instead some strange form of distress, similar to anguish but not quite, akin to growing restlessness on the cusp of spilling into torment.

The hourglass was also different; it had tilted even more compared to the last time she saw it, hanging on by a mere thread that was so very close to unwinding. That faint distorted halo, naked to all but the ties that bind, had neared hazardously close to the hourglass. The invisible pendulum dangling from the halo swung to and for, so close to hitting the sand clock’s glass with every sway of its dance…

Penelope tore her eyes from the lone hourglass. 

Turning her whole body to look in the direction behind her, Penelope’s eyes met the cloaked back of the God of War standing far in the distance. 

Ares stood as stiff as the barren cliffs of Ithaca. His dark red cape flowed in the harsh, hot winds whilst the back of his golden helm gleamed jarringly against the desert’s intense sunbeams. 

His large, war-scarred arms hung to his sides, fists clenched dangerously taut. One of those clenched hands wielded the God’s divine spear, veins bulging and knobby knuckles sharp against flesh. If the shaft hadn’t been made by a fellow God it would have easily split in two. 

The God finally turned around to face his mortal. Even if Penelope couldn’t see his expression from behind the helm, the intense waves of disdain and disappointment radiating from her mentor’s very being were practically tangible.

There was no doubt about it.

Ares was furious. 

In a flash of a second, Ares all but teleported before the mortal woman. Only a couple of brown and red vulture feathers scattered behind him hinted at his sudden motion.

“That was pointless, cowardice at its best!”

The tone in Ares’ voice was filled to the brim with such seething fury, flaring like a fire ready to spread its devastation. That flame was trying so hard to contain itself, to keep from burning the life in its wake, but containing a fire never erases the heat and the smell of smoke. One way or another, ashes will remain.

Penelope, of course, knew what Ares was referring to: leaving the Cyclops alive despite him unofficially declaring war on her and her crew. She had defeated him, and yet Penelope broke the one universal rule every Greek warrior had sworn upon whilst praying to a War God’s name:

Never leave your enemy alive.

“That's not a teaching of mine.”

Disregarding the etiquettes of war by showing mercy to an adversary, leaving them to live with such debasing shame and humiliation for the rest of their demeaning lives, it was the greatest insult one could possibly bestow as a warrior of Greece!

The biggest insult one could personally bestow as a student of Ares.

“You've grown dull, your dead friends can attest.”

“Hey!” Penelope yelled out, the loss of her comrades, her Circes, still very much a painful open wound. 

Ares grew annoyed but did not physically react to this outburst, for Penelope’s momentary reaction fueled by pure emotion was too late in the God’s eyes. 

“Put all your weakness aside. You're a warrior meant to lead the rest!”

Everything about Penelope’s natural personality: her discipline, her patience, her resilience, her intellect; combined with the courage and strength bestowed upon by Ares’ blessing and strict training regime, Penelope should have emerged as a warrior greater than the likes their world had ever previously seen!

So why…

“I don't know where I went wrong!”

Why did she still manage to disappoint him so, in the most dishonorable and degrading manner!?

“But I warned ya', and you failed the test!” 

In only one day Penelope had ignored 20 years of Ares' personal guidance and instruction. She turned a blind eye to her responsibility as the ultimate warrior of her kind. She dismissed the warnings the God was so kind to bequeath to her far too many times. 

Enough was enough!

Penelope has disobeyed him for the last time…

“So now I'm gone!”

[CRACK!

The invisible pendulum struck the hourglass; a small crack formed in the glass. 

Neither God nor mortal noticed.]

Penelope’s eyes widened while Ares’ narrowed. 

“This way, you'll know what your place is, this way, you can't cross the line!” 

Battles may be fuelled by emotion but even the ugliest sides of war were built on obedience. There was only so much and so long the God could restrain himself for. 

No longer physically able to hide his immense anger, Ares let out everything he was holding back from the moment Penelope thought herself to be above a God’s wisdom.

“This way, when all is over you'll keep yours and I'll keep mine!”

Throughout their 20 years together, from their highest highs to even their lowest lows, not once had Ares directed such genuine hostility toward Penelope. 

Now, in this moment of disrespect and disgrace, Penelope felt for the first time what it was like to be on the receiving end of the God of War’s brutality.

How arrogant she'd been to believe she would've ever been spared from a God's wrath, favour be damned. Friendship or hostility, a God's favour will always be proportionate to its antithesis.

“This way, you won't disappoint me, this way, you won't waste my time!” 

Ares truly wasn’t holding himself back. No longer were they standing together in the eye of a storm. No, she was but a measly vessel helpless to turn against mountainous tidal waves. Penelope had to ground herself, focus on her stability, to keep those devastating winds from knocking her to the ground. 

That force of nature wanted nothing more than to knock Penelope off her righteous pedestal, willing to do anything to show her just how vulnerable she truly was.

“This way, I'll close the door, consider this as my goodbye!”

[CRACK!

Another strike from pendulum to hourglass. 

The crack, still small, began to grow larger.]

Ares turned, thinking the foreign feeling inside him must have been “satisfaction” from having unleashed his ever-growing criticisms upon the mortal woman. He was just about ready to disappear, ready to return the mortal to reality so she can wallow in her shame-

When a mirthless, humorless chuckle stopped him in his tracks. 

“That’s just like you, why should l be surprised?” Penelope’s voice was filled with a venomous bite, one Ares never heard in all his time by her side. “Brutal and prideful and vain!”

Penelope knew deep down this wasn’t a good idea, that instigating a God never ended in a mortal’s favor. 

But who else was there to blame but Ares himself? 

HE was the one who chose her, not the other way around! 

HE was the one who transformed her from a naturally kind, patient, and rational girl to the stubborn, reckless, emotional woman she was today!

HE was the one who started her down this path, who ripped her away from the quiet, watchful role she would have been content to play in another life!

All of this, every moment and action in Penelope’s life indisputably laced with anything but peace, all of it started with the God who dared to reduce her to a disappointment!

No, Ares had his chance to voice his complaints. Now, it was Penelope’s turn!

“Unlike you, everytime someone dies, I'm left to deal with the strain!”

72. 72 women to many whose lives were lost mere minutes ago, one of whom was the life of her beloved Circes…

Ares was a God of War, Penelope knew she couldn’t fault him for thinking so little of mortal’s deaths when the consequences of their hubris led to the very bloodshed he was destined to oversee. But how dare he try and make her seem incompetent, when her actions ensured the survival of her remaining women whilst his command would have guaranteed more lives to meet an untimely end!

Penelope just couldn’t risk it, even if it meant disgracing her patron God.

“What's a title a God’s blessing could lend, If I’ll never sleep at night!” 

Even now, mere moments after the deaths of her sisters, Penelope could already hear their cries for help ringing in her ears. 

Did that really mean nothing to him?

“I'll remind you I saw you as a friend!” Penelope couldn’t see Ares’ face behind his helm, as the God rarely allowed another to gaze into his rawest unconcealable emotions; if she could, she would have noticed the way Ares’ glare faltered, even if only for a second. “But now we're done!”

“This way, you're out of my head now! This way, you won't stain my life!”

Sure Ares had “gifted” Penelope many blessings and advantages in their 20 years together: he taught her how to properly fight and bear arms, filled her with courage and strength even in the most mundane of days, empowered her to do what no woman before her time ever thought she could accomplish…

What good did they truly do for her, when the only purpose behind those so-called gifts was for his sake and benefit, not hers?

“This way, when all is done, you're out of sight and out of mind!”

Even if she had enjoyed and found comfort from his presence in the beginning, all it did now was fill her with an overwhelming sense of anxiety and dread. 

For the past decade, everytime Ares appeared before her something terrible always occurred shortly after. 

Being drafted to fight in this war, spilling blood, guilty and innocent, by order of the Gods, having to leave behind her kingdom, her home, her husband and daughter… 

At least with him gone, Penelope no longer had to worry about “divine intervention” plaguing her life any longer!

Not for the first time, her mind thought of Achilles. Swift-footed Achilles, Aristos Achaion, the demigod promised eternal glory and achieving it through suffering that would've been just as eternal had it not been for the remnants of mortality in his blood.

If Ares really wanted to abandon Penelope, to cast her aside like a child would a pet once they’ve lost interest, all for the sole purpose of dismissing glory and cherishing a life that wasn’t her own, then let him! 

“This way, you get what you wanted, this way, you can save your time! This way, you close the door and have your damn goodbye!” 

[CRACK!

Yet again the pendulum struck the hourglass. 

The crack was spreading at an alarming degree.]

This time Penelope was the one to turn her back. Not to leave mind, as she had neither the knowledge nor power to enter and leave Ares’ realm without his say.

She just no longer had the patience to entertain his small-minded ideals any mor- 

SWISH!

Ares swiftly appeared in front of Penelope once more and the woman swore the tusks on his helmet were larger, the nails of his fists sharper.

The place of his eyes, a dark void to the outside world because of the helm, went from betraying nothing to glowering daggers of glowing red orbs. 

“You’re not looking for a mentor, I'm not looking for a friend!”

Ares towered over Penelope, staring down at her with such close proximity. The tone of his words carried with them a savage animosity filled to the absolute brim with pure contempt. Still, there was this extra weight to his words; like he wasn’t just directing this argument toward her…

“I mistook you for a general, what a waste of effort spent!”

Penelope tensed as well, fists clenching and breath huffing in a similar manner to the man who was once her most trusted confidant. 

The meager mortal woman forced herself to stiffen her posture, making herself taller and unwilling to back down, meeting the God of War face-to-face with her eyes never leaving his. Penelope felt a rush of boldness, one that was entirely of her own creation. 

This level of pure fearlessness brought with it an uncontrollable level of unheeding, it left no room for  discipline, patience, or thinking…

“At least I know what I’m fighting for while you can never be sated-” 

Penelope thought only of her husband and daughter. She thought only of Circes. She thought only of her 72 lost soldiers and her 528 remaining… 

With all this, with only this in mind, she thought not of the out of control words that came blurting from her lips-

“Though you claim you're so much stronger, why’s your life spent so hated? You're hated!”

[CRAAACK!

One final blow to the hourglass’ structure, so much stronger and more devastating than any of the pendulum's previous strikes.

The glass frame was so close to permanent destruction, barely a single grain of black and red sand visible from the sheer amount of damage to the sand clock.]

Penelope’s breathing, hard and heaving at first, froze immediately. Her eyes widened, gleaming with realization as she just registered what exactly she had used against the God. 

Ares said nothing in retaliation, his breath only hitched in response. 

No more did he exude that familiar aura of intimidation, no longer were his eyes glowing that eerie shadowy red. He stiffened, no longer towering or looking down on the mortal. In fact, he didn’t do anything. A freezing fire is more disconcerting than a blazing one.

All he did was stare. For in that one moment of surprise, that one instance of genuine distress from the blow of mere words that it left a scar more impactful than the ones displayed proudly on his figure, it left the God spiraling through an unfamiliar series of emotions. 

Regret.

Shame. 

Insecurity.

Emotions thought to be insusceptible to the very personification of courage and strength. 

However, just as quickly as this bout of hurt appeared, it was replaced with stoicism. 

Ares’ head lowered while his stance stilled, no longer tense but still hardened. His arms lay at his side, they would’ve appeared lax had his spearhead not straightened further in his grip.

Even Ares’ voice, once filled with pure passion fueled by his beliefs, expressed not a single hint of emotion. 

“One day, you'll get what I'm saying. One day, you might understand. One day…” 

Ares finally raised his head, the shadows of his eyes powerful in all their lack of gaze. 

For the first time in her life, Penelope understood what it was like to feel unnerved by the God of War. 

“But not today, for after all you're-”

Not a man… 

Voices came from everywhere and nowhere, each one impossible not to recognize. 

71 various women… 

Circes… 

They forced Penelope to remember what she was, what should we always be, no matter what it was she did to try and be more.

Odysseus… 

Telemachas…

She was no man nor legend. She was just another woman in over her head, one who would soon be left to fend for her own.

“This day, you sever your own head, this day, you spark the pyre!”

The edge returned to Ares’ voice; Penelope, drawing in her remorse, did not notice the exaggeration to Ares’ tone, as if he was putting on some performance. 

But for who?

“This day, you lost it all, consider this as my goodbye!”

Ares turned away to leave, this time for good. 

He ignored the falter in his step. 

Oh…

“Consider this as my goodbye!”

Oh…

The various voices surrounding Penelope, assaulting her in a  barrage of painful comfort and raw dread that enveloped her entire being, spiritual and physical. 

Whether they were trying to empower her with hope or drown her with guilt, who could tell?

“This is my goodbye!”

Oh…

Penelope reached a hand out, wanting to grasp but unable to keep hold. She opened her mouth, wanting to cry out but unable to shout. 

Everything but Penelope’s inner self stood by and allowed Ares to leave. 

“Consider this as my goodbye…”

Oh…

Another falter, this time in Ares’ innermost deepest desires. 

This needed to be done, he told himself. Mortals only exist to serve the Gods, he repeated as he did for the past 20 years, and once they no longer serve a use there is no penalty in discarding them. 

Ares was never going to be the kind of deity who was revered, one who was truly understood by mortals, much less loved; he needed to accept this, even if he thought for a moment Penelope could be the outlier…

NO!

Ares can’t waver, not with this one! He cannot and will not involve himself with Penelope any longer!

No matter how many times he’d have to say it, even if he had to repeat it every day for the rest of his immortal life, this was Ares’ final goodbye! 

“This is my goodbye!”

Ares disappeared in an instant, the sound of whirling desert winds accompanying his departure. All that was left as proof of his presence was a scattering of those damn feathers, the scent of burning torches and carrion, and a slight ringing through her bones. If Penelope had to describe it, the sensation felt akin to the precision of a blade sliding across a whetstone. 

The desert landscape slowly began to fade from view. 

That signature red hourglass had cracked so much and so badly it was hardly recognizable. That invisible pendulum worked overtime striking the poor object, trying to break it once and for all. But, the hourglass refused… 

Penelope did not have time to linger on the God of War’s sandglass. It, like everything else within the God of War’s realm, disappeared after a single blink. 

Just like every other time she was dismissed from the realm, Penelope found herself in the same time and moment of before she was summoned; this time, the deck of her ship. 

Just like every other time after Penelope and Ares spoke in his realm, no matter the length, it was as if not a moment passed once she returned to reality. 

This time, though, the only thing that rang over and over in Penelope’s ears were Ares’s final words.

Goodbye.

[kp4president]

In flowers in your hair, was Lexa always secretly kinky or did she discover it with Clarke?

Lexa always had it in her, but never really got the chance to explore it with Costia as they were so young when they first started dating. She was content to go along with Costia and their more vanilla-esque sex life, let her take control in bed and their life.

She was just happy to be loved, to have her. Did she sometimes think about Cos tying her up, whispering absolutely dirty things into her jawline as she squirmed and panted beneath her?

....maybe.

Once they broke up, however, and Clarke walked into her life.

Lexa almost swallows her tongue the first time Clarke casually asks if she has any kinks or things she wants to try in the bedroom, blue eyes innocently peering over a pair of sweatpants she was folding as they sit quietly together in Clarke's living room. two half-drunk glasses of red wine sitting on the coffee table as Lexa slowly sets her book down.

Those same blue eyes spark and glow when Lexa, blushing the same color as the wool throw on the back of the couch, manages to stammer out that she'd really love to be tied up or spanked. She lunges for the wine glass, draining it as the hands folding the sweatpants slowed, and then stopped moving, the silence hanging for a long moment in the air before Clarke moved, so fast Lexa barely was able to anticipate what was happening.

Before she knew it she was tossed over Clarke's shoulder, startled laughter breaking through the air as Clarke bounced her onto her bed, prowling up over her body like a predator.

turns out, Lexa liked being tied up, a lot

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Lethal Panther (Ho, 1990)

This review contains mild spoilers.

If there's one thing I took away from Godfrey Ho's Lethal Panther, it's that John Woo's mix of moody gazes and balletic slow motion gunfights takes some actual talent and artistry to imbue with any emotional resonance. Because those things are in this movie in ample supply, but I rarely found myself more than mildly diverted by the proceedings. I do not know what the secret sauce is, but I'd wager it's a combination of Woo willing to invest the performances of his actors (and having better actors on hand; I don't think I have to make a case for the talents of Chow Yun-Fat, Danny Lee, Ti Lung or Tony Leung here), and just stronger technical prowess and a better eye for striking images. There are plenty of fast paced shootouts here, but they didn't feel as visually coherent as even Ho's other action scenes. I found myself struggling at times to follow the action, which is not a problem I usually have with Hong Kong action movies.

This is a fully original movie by Ho, but might as well be one of his cut-and-paste joints given how loosely the story hangs together. You get two assassins, one of whom has a backstory involving the Vietnam War, and a CIA agent trying to crack a counterfeiting ring. The stories eventually converge, but not really, as the CIA agent crosses paths with the assassins briefly and then more or less leaves them alone until the ending. My guess is that Ho and co. thought up a bunch of cool scenes first, slowed them the fuck down when shooting, and then racked their brains for excuses for the characters to meet after. Which would be fine were the CIA agent not played by Sibelle Hu, who has a much stronger screen presence than the actresses playing the assassins.

One of the things I like about these girls with guns movies is that you get a different set of female archetypes than you often do in other action subgenres. In that sense, I was a little disappointed that we got two moody assassins, as we're losing out on another archetype. There is however a prostitute who, despite the presence of softcore-tinged sex scenes involving other characters (which for some reason were pixelated on the YouTube upload I watched), isn't used for titillation, but she also gets a pretty demeaning death scene (raped and then shot repeatedly at point blank range), so I guess it's a wash. I don't remember Princess Madam, another non-cut-and-paste girls with guns feature by Ho, necessarily being narratively sturdier, but I do remember it having much more forward momentum and making better use of its stars. Give that a look if you haven't already.

All that being said, I'm easy enough to please when it comes to these things, and there was enough action to keep me engaged. We also get a couple of memorable moments throughout, like when Hu and one of the assassins meet in a club while a bangin' electronic track plays and they shoot around each other, or when Hu interrogates a guy by crushing watermelons with a tractor, or when the two assassins bond by shooting at the same Coke can. And isn't that what female friendship is all about?

[drrobertnguyenbvhh]

Bai tap tang deu nguc bang chong day

Mot diem yeu thuong de nhan biet tren co the la su chay xe cua vong nguc lam mat di su hap dan va tu tin cua chi em Thay vi phai chi tra chi phi phau thuat tham my de dieu chinh vong 1 hoac don gian la dung cac san pham my pham dat tien duoc quang cao ram ro nhieu nguoi da tim den nhung bai tap giup san chac vong 1 de khoi phuc ve quyen ru Trong do mot bai tap co ban va phu hop cho nhung nguoi moi bat dau la chong day

Bai tap giup san chac vong 1 chong day Cach thuc hien dong tac chong day nhu sau

Bat dau o tu the nam sap tren san dat hai ban tay voi khoang cach hoi rong hon vai Giu cho lung thang va co the thang hang sau do day co the len bang cach thuc day tu ban tay va ngon chan Ha co the xuong gan san va sau do nang len tro lai vi tri ban dau Lap lai dong tac theo nhieu lan Bai tap chong day la mot cach tot de tap trung vao su san chac va tang cuong co bap nguc Tuy nhien hay nho thuc hien dung ky thuat va lua chon muc do phu hop voi kha nang cua ban

[demospectator]

Shop in Chinatown, c. 1890.  Photograph by Isaiah West Taber (from the Granger Collection, Historical Picture Archive).  

Right Before Our Eyes:  Rediscovering Ti Hang Lung & Co. on Dupont Street -- 都板街

The flash photo of the interior of a store in old San Francisco Chinatown has remained a favorite subject of reproductions over the years (even by mass outlets such as Wal-Mart). Unfortunately, the information about personages and the nature of the business have been lost to living memory. However, the photo contains a conspicuous sign and, thus, an important clue for researchers of old Chinatown more than 130 year later.

The sign appears in the upper center of the frame and reads 泰興 (pronounced as “Tie Hing” in Cantonese).  The Langley directory of 1895 lists a business by the name “Ti Hang Lung & Co. 818 Dupont.“  The 1905 telephone directory also provides verification in the form of an English-language listing as “Ti Hang Lung & Co. Mds 818 Dupont.” This poses the question of whether the entry in English corresponds to the Chinese signage seen in the photo, particularly given the inconsistent English phonetic renderings of that day.  Fortunately, the Chinese section of the 1905 contains a handwritten Chinese entry for the address of 818 Dupont.  The name 泰興隆 (canto: “Tai Hing Loong”) appears in the first column at the bottom of this page excerpt as follows:

Chinese Exchange section for Dupont Street (都板街) from the Pacific States Telephone and Telegraph Co. directory of 1905 (from the collection of the San Francisco Public Library). The Chinese entry also shows the type of business as 蘇杭 什貨   (lit. “Suzhou-Hangzhou, assorted goods”; canto: “So-Hong sup faw”).

The telephone directory listing also confirms the type of merchandise sold by Ti Hang Lung as indicated by the cloth banner above its business name in the photo.  Researcher Qi Liu wrote in response to this posting as follows:

“Suzhou-Hangzhou stores were fabric stores. At one time there were hundreds of these stores in the Siyi regions. The name suggested they sold the finest silk from those 2 cities. In reality, these stores also sold silk and cotton fabrics made in Guangdong. The items on the racks do appear to be rolls of fabrics.  Even though the character on the right is not clear, one can conclude from the other 3 that the characters, from right to left, are from classic line 億則屡中.”

The Ti Hang Lung company survived the 1906 earthquake and fire, and it would reestablish itself as the “Ti Hang Lung, Importer & Exporter at 846 Grant Avenue in the rebuilt neighborhood (with its pre-1906 Chinese listing of 泰興隆 油糖 什貨).

This exercise in simple detective work raises the larger question of why public and private academic institutions, libraries, auctioneers, and publishers omit information that illuminates the images in their archives or for sale.  For example, the Chinatown 1905 Project provides anyone interested in the people and places in old Chinatown with a map regarding their whereabouts.  

As a wise man once told me, “your history is your own.”  His unspoken corollary was that no one else would give a damn otherwise.  

Asian American history may be American history, but it will take Asian Americans to re-appropriate at least the photographic legacy of their pioneer generations, probably with the help of A.I. engines because the task of compiling the information or setting the record straight remains voluminous and enormous.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

250+ blackbonnet fic recs, part 2

well, the gargantuan list hit link limit, folks! so i've split it into two.

contents of part one

s1 fix-its

multichapter canonverse

oneshot canonverse (smutty)

contents of part two, below:

oneshot canonverse (smutless)

AUs

rpf

🍊 marks my favorites

oneshot canonverse (smutless):

The Way Home by ladylapislazuli 6k T 🍊

It’s not like him to be so nervous. Stede thinks there’s likely more to it than Ed is acknowledging, perhaps even to himself. Which means it’s high time for a chat.

“Now look,” Stede says. It’s important to keep the lines of communication open with one’s spouse. He’s learned that the hard way. “Before we meet them, I wanted to have a little conference. You know my motto. We talk it through –”

“– as a crew, yeah, yeah,” Ed says, hurrying him along.

it’s what pirates do, isn’t it by ThirtySixSaveFiles 1.7k T

It turns out that when a captain gets married onboard his own ship, the first mate officiates. The situation isn’t any different for co-captains.

Ties that Bind by Fyre 3.3k M (despite the rating, this is about a nonsexual bondage scene) 🍊

“Oh.” Ed curled his fingers around the trailing ends of the ribbons and pulled, drawing them all snugly against his skin, some of them so fine his tattoos showed through them. He dragged his thumb along them and when he raised his eyes to meet Stede’s, the liquid dark of them quite stole Stede’s breath away. “Do you have to tie them to hair? Can you tie… other things?”

ease one life the aching by treescape 1.1k T

“Can’t we just…make out, or something?” Ed’s voice is gruff, evasive, and yet despite all that a little plaintive. He perches carefully on the very edge of Stede’s bed, turns to arch his eyebrows at Stede next to him, and any other time that would be a resounding yes. Stede has recently had occasion to discover that he very much likes kissing Ed.

Right now—well, perhaps right now isn’t really the time.

“That would be lovely,” he tells Ed, and he means it, “if you weren’t bleeding to death at the moment.”

 Or, Ed's not used to being taken care of. Stede wants to change that.

Behind Every Great Gentleman Pirate by WhimsicalSesquipedalian 5.2k T

Mary Bonnet is a practical woman. Has to be, in a world such as hers. So when the dread pirate Blackbeard shows up at her not-at-all-actually-dead husband’s grave on an utterly unremarkable Tuesday morning, well, she’s in for quite an impractical encounter.

the art of gift giving by Nanashi07 7k T 🍊

People in love – at least, people from Stede’s world who are in love – get each other gifts.  This is a newly learned fact for Ed, but it is a fact nonetheless.  Mary got Stede gifts.  Mary got Stede many gifts.  The lighthouse painting still hanging in their shared captains’ quarters, that was a gift from Mary.  Stede has half of a petrified orange beside their bed, a gift from his daughter.

Stede owns nothing of Ed’s.  Ed has given Stede nothing.

This may, he realizes with dread, have been an oversight.

sure as the tide comes in by untrustworthyglitch 7.5k T

“What kind of leather is this, then?” Ed asks, genuinely curious, holding up a beautiful gray pelt.

Stede barely restrains himself, barely keeps from lunging across the room to yank the sealskin out of Ed’s hands.

Presentable by Fyre 2.5k M

This was the clothing of the legendary Blackbeard, infamous and deadly pirate. Had anyone told him, weeks ago, that he would be donning Blackbeard’s clothes, he would have been sure they were making fun of him. After all, Blackbeard would trifle with someone as dull and odd as Baby Bonnet.

He couldn’t keep the giddy smile from spreading across his face.

Well, evidently he was quite interesting enough for Blackbeard to like him.

What if... we were pirates? by robynvite 6k G

Five times Ed and Stede used escapist fantasies to flirt, and one time they flirted facing the reality of their existence

Lucius keeps observing how the bizarre little man Stede Bonnet and the notorious pirate captain Blackbeard, terror of the seven seas, have nonsense conversations about escapist fantasies of who they'd be to each other in different worlds. Lucius is baffled and intrigued by this flirting style.

conjured up by pen and ink by Badgerette 3.1k T

Lucius is just done, Ed is an idiot and Stede has a lovely body.

Sincerely, Captain Thomas by stitchy

In which Stede and Ed are stuck ashore, and accidentally become pen pals. You've Got Ye Olde Maile! 

But what do you do Thomas, thats lefd you so wanting for a thrill that you need to spy thru a thiket of chiken scradch on the spelling atrossittys of strangers? Is Royal James a royal bore?

put me back together by ShowMeAHero 4.2k T

Stede can’t help crying out in pain, in the next beat, finally giving in when an instinctive sound comes up. It’s loud, and the crew goes dead silent around him.

Stede doesn’t even notice. He’s just trying to breathe, skin tugging painfully, when a door bangs open at the opposite end of the ship.

“What the fuck was that?” Ed demands from afar, voice heard easily over the crash of the sea around them. “Was that Stede? Where the fuck is he?”

“Oh, no,” Lucius says quietly.

“If you jump overboard, babe, I swear I’ll come back for you,” Black Pete promises him.

Type by Fyre 2.3k T

Why was it, Mary wondered, that just when the dust had settled (again) and her husband had been laid to rest (again), once more Stede Bonnet was arsing up her life? 

Okay, yes, this time it wasn’t him personally, but as she stared at the man sitting – sprawling – in the chair in front of the fireplace in the morning light, black leather and hair and tattoos and a fucking sword carving a hole into that nice oak floor, she wanted to reach across the ocean and wring his bloody neck.

Two Captains and a Baby by triedunture 9.2k T

The crew of The Revenge finds a lost infant during one of their bouts of fuckery. Stede and Ed play caretaker for one night.

for luck, for love (kiss me sweet) by treescape 1.7k T

The day starts with a bang—quite literally, in fact, though Ed argues it’s more of a crack. Stede might have fallen out of bed at the sound, if it weren’t for Ed’s arm snug about his waist, their legs tangled together beneath the blankets.

As it is, he still almost manages it. What he does manage is a great deal of flailing.

It’s all rather undignified, really.  

Or, Stede has a very, very bad day. Ed thinks he knows how to fix it.

Of two gold ingots, like in each respect by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse) 3.9k T

Twenty years older, wiser, scarred and more in love than ever, Stede and Ed have a good day together.

Unintentional Seduction by mnwood 3.7k T

Stede turned his attention back to Ed and whispered, “I suppose we can take this conversation down to my quarters.”

Ed nodded and giggled in response, and both of them shushed each other as they tried to quietly make their way through the sleeping crewmates.

It was becoming a habit, really.

Ed had been on the Revenge going on two weeks now, and each night he would join the crew on the main deck while Stede read them stories. Reading stories always dissolved into telling ghost stories, which dissolved into individual conversations breaking off until everyone, one by one, fell asleep.

Stede and Ed were always, always the last ones still awake, still talking.

what lies in the subtext by Badgerette 1.3k T

Ed takes Stede out on another adventure in nature. It’s the worst, until it isn’t.

here there be love (not dragons) by treescape 1.3k T

“You know,” Frenchie says quickly, “I’ve heard that sometimes experiences can make the best gifts,” and Ed turns to point at him, because the man’s a fucking genius is what he is.

The problem, after all, is that Stede already owns everything worth having on the whole of the seven seas, which makes finding an anniversary gift a fucking nightmare. 

Or, Ed tries to find an anniversary present for Stede. The crew helps.

every word is a symphony by ShowMeAHero 2k G

“Was that ours?” Ed asks.

“Hm?” Stede asks.

Ed points out at the dinghy that’s halfway submerged underwater, sinking further and further down with each wave that rocks over it.

“That one there,” Ed clarifies.

“Oh,” Stede says. “Well, I— Yes, it was.”

Ed goes quiet for a moment.

“Ah,” he says, then stops again. After a beat, he adds, “And the ship—”

“Hasn’t noticed, no,” Stede replies.

Ed clicks his tongue.

“Alright,” he says.

The two of them stare at the dinghy for another minute.

Unseen by Fyre 4.5k T

“Ready?” Ed ducked through the doorway and stopped dead, staring. “What,” he said very carefully, “the actual fuck is that?”

Some kind of tub had been fitted to the wall, big enough to fit a grown man if they wanted to sit in it, and right now, it was full of steaming water like some kind of giant soup pot, if a soup pot could smell of Stede and flowers.

“That,” Stede said, pushing his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, “is a bath.” He gave Ed one of those now-familiar delighted looks. “I drew it for you.” At once his brow creased. “Well. No. That’s not entirely accurate. I arranged to have it drawn for you.”

a kissing story by darcylindbergh 3k M

Stede was able to finish the story out for the night, detailing young Foxglove’s terrible decision—to follow the Dread Pirate Roberts, or to strike off into the fens on his own, and hope the river bandits didn’t catch up with him? Ed kept his own council, knowing his opinion would likely be an unpopular one, and sure enough, after a brief round of yelling and protesting, it was decided that Foxglove would follow the pirate.

“Of course it has to be a story about pirates,” Lucius said, cracking an enormous yawn where he lay tucked up against Pete’s chest. “All the good ones are.”

Ed wasn’t so sure about that.

echo your name (call it love) by treescape 1.6k T

“I mean, you kind of did the same thing yesterday,” Lucius tells him afterwards, when they’re reviewing the day’s adventure for the logbook. Ed’s somewhere out on deck, which is a very good thing, since Stede is having a bit of a panic. “And the day before, and the day before—”

“Did I really?” Stede wails in horror.

“And the day before,” Lucius confirms. “Except then it was ‘dear heart.’ No, wait, it was ‘my love.’ ‘Dear heart’ was the day before that. Actually, I don’t think you’ve called him by just his name in like, a week.”

Or, Stede realizes he's maybe, possibly started calling Ed rather revealing things.

Closer by Fyre 2k M

“Lucius is the one who always shaves me.”

“He’s lost a fucking finger, Stede!”

From the purse of Lucius’s lips, he had tried to say that as well. “Captain’s sure it’ll be fine.”

Ed snorted, squeezing his way into the stupid little bathroom, and snatched the razor out of Lucius’s hands. “Fuck that.” He jerked his head towards the open doorway. “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” Stede’s eyes widened in surprise.

miracle cure by dollsome 1k T 🍊

In which kissing ouchies to make them better is absolutely a valid treatment for pirate brawl-sustained injuries. 

Thou Makest My Heart A Bloody Mark by tillysaysfuck 1.6k T

“My dear man, why ever didn’t you tell me?”

The lace cuff of Stede’s sleeve drapes ever so delicately over Ed’s bare hand. He feels like a fucking idiot.

“Books are something you care about.” Ed gestures vaguely at the contents of the room. “I didn’t – I couldn’t just say no to you showing me something important.”

-

or: Ed can't read, so Stede reads to him.

Binding by Nestra .5k T

"My books," Stede says softly, when he sees what Blackbeard has done to his cabin in his absence, and he says nothing else.

Davy Jones' Auxiliary Locker by Mapes 3.3k T

It turns out Davy Jones’ locker is less of an actual locker, and more of a shipwrecked frigate at the bottom of the ocean, preserved inside an air pocket the size of a volcano. And Davy Jones himself is not the fiery eyed, smoke wreathed monster of legend, but a normal looking man. Something of a dandy, even, for a pirate. Hair and beard neatly trimmed, shot through with streaks of grey, cream-coloured waistcoat and breeches in the modern fashion, and a carved bone pipe that he sucks on thoughtfully before saying, “What the fuck’s a Stede Bonnet?”

*******

Stede dies. Ed brings him back.

two drifters, off to see the world by failedcharismacheck 1k G 🍊

Though she keeps an eye out for a souvenir interesting enough to satisfy the ever-changing whims of her moody teenage children, Mary is mostly in this market to observe. She's taken to watching the world with a painterly eye; color, form, and motion. Across the busy street, a glimpse of bright powder blue catches her gaze, the friendly pastel almost shocking against the warm tones of sunset and palm fronds and brick.

Not as shocking as its wearer, Mary finds, as her eye lands upon the ghost of one Stede Bonnet, standing before a fruit stall and delicately inspecting a guava.

and I swear, I know you by locheia 12.8k G

Come get your non-canon compliant, utterly divergent, hurt/comfort amnesia fic everybody!

i'll find a new place to be from by Bebravenow 2.6k T 

Stede's heard 'soft' before, heard it his whole life. His father spat it like an insult and his teachers murmured it like it was a condition and his peers said it like it was a joke.

Ed doesn't say it like that, though. He says it like it's a compliment. He says it like it's something worth being.

Reeling from the fall by cormoranth 2.2k T

“Right,” the stranger said quietly, calmly, a friendly lilting cadence to his words. “I think you should tell Doug not to try and be a hero tonight. Tell him that if he likes you with all your fingers attached and if he likes not knowing what those fingers taste like, then he should probably stay where he is while you and I go downstairs to talk. Does that sound like a good idea to you?"

a pirate wedding by lukeishope 2.6k T

"Stede." Ed turned in the rain, grabbing ahold of his co-captain's arm. The other man met his eyes and tilted his head. "Will you marry me?" Ed asked.

Stede raised his eyebrows in response before suddenly bringing his sword up and blocking another from slicing through Ed's back. "I'm not sure if now is the best time!"

God Save The Shopkeep (From The Gentleman Pirate) by  WaitingToBeBroken 2.4k T

For Francis, the owner of the Republic of Pirates gift shop, meeting Blackbeard was a nightmare come true.

He realised too late it wasn't him he needed to worry about.

A Perfect Cup of Tea by temporal-infidelity (gyabou) 1.3k T

“Ah, so I see you’ve noticed these,” Stede said suddenly, bringing him back to the present. “Are these not the finest sugar nips you’ve ever laid eyes on?”

Ed blinked a few times. “Ah,” he said, “could you repeat that, mate?”

Stede waved the tongs he was holding in a little circle. “My sugar nips,” he repeated, as though it were obvious.

Still Fine by FestiveFerret 1.7k T

When Ed comes to him for a hand with his fancy clothes, Stede is faced with a hard truth: Ed's rough life before he earned his fearsome reputation as Blackbeard has left its mark on his body.

All Stede wants to do is soothe those old hurts.

An Eye for Fine Art by nbca .8k G

It sounds like the start of a bad joke. Mary’s technically dead ex-husband walks into her latest art show with his motley crew in tow. There is no punchline.

--- Stede and the crew come to one of Mary's art showings, but there are a few misconceptions as to who Stede's mysterious "Ed" is.

A Captains' Tradition by onetiredboy 2.3k T

There’s a thing on Edward’s mind.

It has been on his mind since he first met Stede. The beginnings of it were even there when The Gentleman Pirate was nothing more than a pretty rumour floating on the sea breeze. He's been good at not noticing the thing, or at least letting it buzz away to itself in a neglected corner of his mind, but it has resurfaced with a vengeance since he found himself sleeping in a chair beside Stede's bed as he recovered from being pinned to the mast like a butterfly in a display.

The thing is this: he really, really, really fucking wants to be held.

The Gentleman Entertainer by BristlingBassoon 6.3k T

“I reckon you’ve got a bit of a reputation, mate.”

“Oh?” Stede isn’t sure whether to be pleased.

“Yeah. They say you’re pretty fucking good at showing lads a good time.” The man smiles in a way that softens his fearsome appearance.

“Is that so? I suppose I am,” Stede says, and now he is blushing a pleased shade of pink.

“I’ve heard all kinds of blokes say they’ll never forget the nights they had with you,” the man says. “Which is pretty fucking fascinating as most guys get around. Someone in every port, y’know? Which means,” the man says, fixing his eyes on Stede’s face, “you’ve gotta be something special.”

“Well,” Stede says modestly, “I’ve gotten rather good at making tea.”

-----

AKA: Stede Bonnet accidentally becomes a sex worker but doesn't realise it.

Pater Familias by effing_gravity (Malteaser) 5.3k M

Ed and Stede have more in common than they first realize.

(It’s patricide. That’s what they have in common.)

act of grace by one_more_page 1k G

Blinded and bound, Stede waits for the swift arm of death to pull him under.

—

OR

An alternate first kiss. 

calm me down & smooth me out by mortem_per_prophetiam 2k T

“Was I bad at it or something?” he asks. Stede furrows his brow at him.

“Bad at… what?” he mumbles, eyes now fully open and alert. “I don’t follow.”

***

It's late at night and Ed begins to overthink.

Mingulay by jemariel 4.5k T

Stede Bonnet has brought many luxurious things into Ed's life, but this might be the most surprising. And, so far at least, the most pleasurable, the most intimate. What more could Ed want?

Soft hair worship and bathing, because I have feelings about Ed's hair and the boy deserves to be pampered.

’Til Death Do You Fucking Part by unbearable_lightness_of_ink 1.3k T

"...Into this buggering holy estate these two wankers came to be joined.” (He thinks he’s finally getting under Blackbeard’s skin a little. Good. Here comes the only part of this he’s been looking forward to.) “If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together—” (unreasonable hope rises like bile in his throat) “—let them speak now.” He waits. Not even the seagull makes a sound. “Let them speak fucking now.” *** Or, Ed and Stede force Izzy to officiate their wedding, and Izzy barely survives the ordeal.

The Art of Taking a Blade by letthesongtakeflight 4k T

When he got to the mast, it was just him and the insane, brave, brilliant man impaled against it. “I’ll take care of him.”

Their eyes met. Stede drew in a small, quick breath. His eyes pinned Ed to the spot like he was pinned to the mast.

------

Or: Ed pulls Izzy's sword out of Stede.

to live with your soul in the grave by nameless_bliss 7.5k T

“It’s hard to imagine him being a competent enough pirate to make a real enemy.” She pauses. “Unless you can make an enemy just by being that annoying.” Ed furrows his brow. “Not supposed to speak ill of the dead, I thought.” “Not supposed to dig up their corpses either, yet here we are.”

Ed sees Stede one last time. But he didn't expect to not be the only one paying him a visit tonight.

Proper Accoutrements by grimgrinningghost 2.7k M

“Well, then,” he says finally, “Just the rings left.”

“The-“ Ed’s ass falls back onto his feet and his knee screams. “You want - the rings?”

“Yes!” Stede insists, like the question is silly, “We have to complete the ensembles.”

Ed’s face scrunches and his mouth opens, then closes, and he looks at Stede but the man seems entirely sincere, like there’s no deeper meaning behind this request, so Ed’s eyebrows rise and he shakes his head and says, “Yeah, mate. The ensemble. Right.”

So that’s how he ends up kneeling in front of the Gentleman Pirate, sliding off his own rings and watching him do the same.

___________________________

Or, the missing scene where Ed and Stede exchange their entire outfits, rings and all.

Old Wounds by derryday 3.8k T

"I've got to say, Stede," Ed said from where he was reclining on the couch, his long limbs draped every which way, "if someone had told me a year ago that some spoiled rich boy was gonna take up pirating, I'd've given you a week, tops."

Ed's voice was soft, thoughtful. There was no malice in his teasing smirk. His eyes were warm, crinkling at the corners, inviting Stede to share the joke.

Stede still flinched, jostling the two glasses of brandy he'd been pouring. A bit of amber liquid spilled over the rim, staining his sleeve.

Late Bloomers by poading 5.4k T

“Well, that’s a waste, isn’t it?” Ed juts his chin at the plants. “If they don’t flower til they’re practically dead, what’s the point?”

“I don’t know about that.” Stede trails a finger along the petals, worrying his lip between his teeth in thought. “Seems to me flowers are beautiful no matter how long they take to bloom.” His eyes find Ed’s and catch them, murky and warm and searing with kindness of a violent sort.

 It’s quite the hostage situation Ed’s found himself in and he doesn’t dare blink.

Stede and Ed come across a flower merchant at the market and Stede has an idea for a team building exercise for the crew.

oh, by leaveanote 2.2k T

Stede has another realization.

our blood is thicker than storms and saltwater by ShowMeAHero 10k M

“No!” Ed screams instinctively. He doesn’t know what’s happened, but he knows he’s heard a gunshot, and he knows Stede’s hands are slipping out of his, and he knows, a second later, that Stede’s let go of the railing to fall into the sea below.

Somebody grabs onto Ed’s shoulder, but he wrenches them off of him without a second thought. He wrestles his boots off, then his weapons, but he doesn’t care to tear off anything else— there isn’t time for it, not now, not when—

“Captain, don’t!” Frenchie shouts behind him.

Ed ignores him. The Revenge doesn’t have a captain if Stede Bonnet’s not on board.

captain's quarters by leaveanote 1k T

Co-captains. Shit. He’s really fucking in it now, isn’t he.

Ed downs his brandy. Takes it quick enough to not really taste.

“Well, I’m off,” he says, pushing to his feet. Stede shifts in his seat.

“You know, I meant to ask,” Stede says, his tone edged in slightly false casualness. “Where, ah—where have you been sleeping?”

The Swift, Up-Flinging Rush by ladyblahblah 2.5k T

Nothing then but silence, broken only by the sound of Mary’s uneven breathing. The house around them is silent, too, only the two of them left within its walls. Blackbeard’s grip on the heavy bronze mastiff has gone white-knuckled, but when he finally speaks his voice is even. Calm.

“It’s really true, then. Stede Bonnet is dead.”

Or: Blackbeard's crew descends upon the Bonnet homestead after hearing the rumor of Stede's alleged death.

a bottle of whisky and a few mistakes by onawingandaswear 1k T

The Charleston gallows weren’t built for two.

pearls that you pulled from the deep by ShowMeAHero 10k E

If this man lives— which Ed has no intention of allowing to happen— he could start a whole fresh horror story, could tour the seas telling this brand-new tale about Blackbeard’s specific brand of savage violence. This time, it would even be entirely fucking true.

This time, it won’t be Izzy that kills a man for him, or the flames of a fire, or the blow of a fall. It won’t be committed from a distance, and it won’t be an experience-twice-removed, and it won’t be outsourced to somebody else. It won’t be an accident; it won’t be a legend; it won’t be a mistake, or an exaggeration, or just another myth that sailors tell each other for scares late at night.

It won’t be a technicality that kills the man that killed Stede Bonnet. It’ll be Ed.

or: ed and stede are ambushed, and ed thinks he sees stede die. he doesn't, of course, but ed doesn't know that.

By the Book by AlphaCygni 8.1k T 🍊

Stede Bonnet is a gentleman, and gentlemen have rules for courting.

Ed does his best to learn.

Never A Weed More Enduring Than Love by OceanCandy (PaddlingDingo), PaddlingDingo 2k G

Stede remembers a lifetime of flowers collected, and abandoned.

He gathers the first bouquet of flowers that matters. Unfortunately, all he can find is weeds. But as Stede is about to discover, weeds and love have a surprising number of commonalities, and Ed doesn’t mind weed bouquets one bit.

Watch Out, Here I Come by ElapsedSpiral 3.2k T

Stede pulled back his shoulders and set his jaw. “The mission I am embarking on is perilous.”

“Strong opener, love it.”

“But I take comfort from all my years of preparation. I have done my reading, my self reflection, and here I am-”

“Ready to do some pirating,” Lucius agreed.

“No, ready to seduce Blackbeard.”

*

AU: Okay but what if Stede had been intentionally seducing Ed?

AUs:

this tired world could change by gangnamstiles 94k E 🍊

One summer day, two unlikely paths cross in the alley behind Bonnet Group’s towering skyscraper: Stede is at the end of his rope, and Ed just needed a smoke break. Of course, after they’ve become inseparable, Ed’s past catches up to him as Stede tries to find a way out of his own obligations, and the solace they’ve found in each other is threatened.

“Bad day?” Ed guesses. The man lets out a gusty sigh and bobbles his head a bit as he nods. A blonde curl pokes back up from where it had been slicked down, and Ed smiles.

“Colleagues,” the man says. He exhales his next drag through his nose in a resolute sigh. Ed is positively enamored.

it's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do by lacecat 33k WIP M 🍊

“Christ,” Stede says faintly, wiping his damp palms on his trousers. It’s not every day that the one and only Blackbeard proposes marriage so that you’re not compelled to testify against each other for hiding a body. (Allegedly.)

Ed narrows those gorgeous dark eyes at him, and all Stede can think to say is, “You mean… now?”

“Wha — yes, now,” Ed says, “Come on, Stede, let’s go get hitched.”  

Òran an Ròin by EN123 16k WIP T 🍊

“I’m Mr Bonnet,” says Stede, and he fights the urge to hold out his hand to shake. “But you can call me Stede. Mr Bonnet is my father – was my father. He’s dead, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know. Gosh, I don’t suppose you met him, hm? He would’ve thought you fascinating.” Then Stede feels rather rude. “Not that I don’t, of course. You seem a marvellous creature. But I fear my fathers fascination would have been quite different.”

The seal simply blinks.

the love of a pet by captainbonny  8.8k E 🍊

Newly divorced dog person Stede Bonnet and local business owner/hot biker and cat person Edward Teach meet in the waiting room of a vet's office.

is this what they call a derby crush (knock seven bells out of me) by Badgerette 14.6k T 🍊

Stede had never been sporty, or even remotely competitive. He had never done a voluntary squat or push-up in his life, and had certainly never wanted to. He’d thought a burpee was what you’d call a baby after feeding it and it needed help with its indigestion.

Nevertheless, watching these people having the time of their life had helped Stede finally find a purpose for the rest of his inheritance. He was going to find his own people, and this was the way to do it.

So, instead of getting a convertible or investing in crypto, he handled his mid-life crisis by starting a roller derby league.

Doing Hard Time by Rhapsody_Bohemia 35k M

Stede Bonnet’s life took an unexpected turn when he was arrested on two counts of first-degree murder.

But the surprises didn’t end there. His cellmate was the notoriously violent bank robber, Blackbeard.

It would take all of their combined cunning, and quite a bit of luck, to formulate and execute an escape plan.

But first, Stede thought, something really needed to be done about the quality of the prison uniforms.

(The Shawshank Redemption AU that no one asked for.)

love a good chartreuse by FortinbrasFTW 3k G

In which Stede has a pitbull named Venny, Ed has a terrier named Cat, and it’s a lovely spring day in Washington Square Park for falling in love with strangers.

The CaféHouse by WaitingToBeBroken 10k T

Stede's new regular was very happy with taking his order, "Coffee, black," and leaving.

Stede was... not so happy with that arrangement.

Naturally, he decided to feed him.

They are trying to flirt, but they are both very, very bad at it.

Queen Anne's Revenge by KissMyAsthma 3.4k G

Stede Bonnet, a middle-aged divorcee, has to use any chance he gets to get into his adolescent daughter’s good books. Such an opportunity presents itself when Alma persuades her father into going to a gig played by Queen Anne’s Revenge - the hottest rock band these days.

The night becomes decidedly more interesting when Stede meets a stranger in a black leather jacket.

Squid-life Crisis by nerbert 7k T

Ed begins to tell fun facts to the strange fancy man who visits the aquarium each day. 

Time makes you bolder, children grow older by mtothedestiel 13k E

After making his fortune in the Royal Navy, Captain Edward Teach returns to English society a wealthy man looking for a spouse. It’s the perfect opportunity to rub it in the face of Mr. Stede Bonnet, the lover who broke his heart by rejecting his proposal fifteen years ago. But is seeing Stede lonely and unhappy what Ed really wants?

How Our Histories Interweave by idiopathicsmile 5.5k T

The problem with playing arenas is that, from the stage, every arena looks basically the same. Metal frameworky bits, lots of lights overhead, big screaming crowd of people, not much else to see. The people tend to scream pretty much the same stuff every night, too. It's all, “Woooo, Blackbeard!” and “Yeahhh, Blackbeard!” and “Play Stop Or I'll Make You Eat Your Toe!”

Over and over, all around the world, ad infinitum. If Blackbeard wasn’t a solo act, he would’ve broken up by now.

Ed misses the stuff that makes rock real. The passion. The rabble-rousing.

He’s got a couple of days between tours, and for once, just once, he wants to start a night without knowing how it'll end.

Wolf Trap by for_autumn_i_am 6.6k E 🍊

Stede Bonnet runs through the misty forest.

He is definitely not crying.

He runs in ribboned shoes that were only made for strolling in the city. His white calves flash like those of a deer, covered in silk stockings. And stupid, stupid: his scarlet cape flows in the wind, like a trail of brilliant blood, marking him prey.

Our Fashionable Armor by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse) 20k T

A silk scarf, a copper button, and a pair of warm brown eyes change the course of Ed's entire criminal career.

of all the ways to eat a cake by attheborder 3.8k E

“D’you mind if we do this on the way?”

“... Do what?”

“The robbing bit. I’m happy to oblige, just sort of in a major hurry.” He peered nervously out the back window of the carriage. Nobody was coming down the road but it seemed like he thought there might be soon. “And it’s very roomy in here. Space enough for you to draw your sword, even, if you’d like.”

Silk All Around You by Slow_Burn_Sally 7.7k E

Stede meets Ed in a bar and lets him crash at his place. Ed wakes up in unusual but appealing surroundings and is swiftly fascinated by his strange host.

marmalade cake by bayaningbituon 4k G

The food keeps coming–undercooked pancakes and overcooked eggs, well-done steak and burnt roasted vegetables, fried chicken where the coating fell off, pasta sauce with tough herb stalks still in the sauce–and Ed eats it all.

Because every time he does, he’s met with Stede, with wide smiles and weird and crazy conversations and the warmth of good company. Because every time he and Stede are in his apartment, it feels like home. Because he has never laughed or smiled this much in his whole life.

-

Stede thinks his new neighbor, Ed, can't cook. He doesn't know that Ed is a Michelin-trained chef.

visions of a life by huojuvuus 1.2k G

It isn’t a secret at Queen Anne’s Academy that Stede Bonnet has a big fat crush on the world-famous rockstar known as Edward Teach. To Professor Bonnet, he seems to be just Ed, though. Ed this, Ed that.

(or, alma bonnet's stepdad is a rockstar. who would've thought?)

Clean Slated State by Justkeeptrekkin 42k E 🍊

Stede is ready to 'get back out there' after his divorce, but he's more than a little bit intimidated by the concept of online dating. After a series of truly terrible first dates, he's close to giving up on love altogether. Perhaps he's too old for all this Grindr nonsense.

And then, along comes a bartender called Edward Teach.

Showstopper by EN123  5.4k WIP G

“You ever worn a bald cap?” “Oh, lord.” “Yeah, it’s a good look,” says Edward, opening the packet up, and sliding the beige coloured cap out. “Beats being slowly waxed, though.”

In which Edward is a propmaker, and Stede is the actor needing his face cast for an upcoming show.

I wanna take you (to a gay bar) by Tenely 4.7k E

Modern AU. The Badminton twins download Grindr to Stede’s phone as a joke. This backfires unexpectedly by getting him laid.

we should just kiss (like real people do) by al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons 5.5k T 🍊

“I mean, I can read a little.” Ed continued, his tone defensive, setting his books down and throwing himself into the chair beside Stede. “The basics, you know.  C-A-T is cat, whatever. But big words trip me up, and sometimes the letters get blurry and move around the page.” Ed ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. Stede watched as Ed tried to gather his thoughts, unable to keep himself from admiring his dark eyes and long, salt-and-pepper hair.

“And when is the exam?”

“In four weeks,” Ed said miserably, slumping over the table.

“Ah,” Stede murmured.“Well, we’d better get started then, eh?”

Ed turned his head to the side, one suspicious eye visible. “What are you on about?”

“I’m going to tutor you,” Stede said brightly.

Or, Stede is a librarian, and Ed is a tattoo apprentice struggling to pass the necessary exam to become licensed. I think you can see where this is going.

you take on the colors by bayaningbituon 2.8k G 

The door next to the little makeshift stage opens, and Stede looks up at the model walking in and immediately drops his paintbrush with a loud clatter.

This man is the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life.

in the margins by weatheredlaw 3.3k T

At this stage of his life, it’s important for him to realize nothing exciting will ever happen to him. That he is too old for spontaneity, but too young still to die. He reads a book about pirates. His namesake occasionally appears. Stede feels a kinship with him that goes beyond the name and the page, grips him like a vise and won’t let go.

or: Ed and Stede choose each other in this life. And the next. And the next. And the next.

different this time by tedwelton 42k WIP G 

Edward was a little bit of a stuffy, old fashioned name.  And Teach, well, that made Stede think of a professor.  And however silly that kind of assumption may be, when he had spotted this man’s name in the listings, he’d pictured a bespectacled man in a cardigan, not…   Well.

Written for the tumblr prompt "nanny/single parent au".

The Red Side of the Moon by one_more_page 93k M

There was a man unconscious at the edge of the property. His beard was matted with blood, hair a tangled knot, and he had a welt the size of a fist on his forehead.

Black Pete was skeptical. “What if he’s in league with Blackbeard’s Gang?”

Stede patted his shoulder. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. What would a notorious outlaw want with a ranch like ours?” He hopped back into the wagon and shook his head. “Besides, this guy working for Blackbeard? What are the odds of that?”

There was a young sailor who sat on the dock by rhosyndu 3.5k E

Young Ed Teach is minding his own business on the quayside when a blond toff asks if he's for hire. For hire hire.

He wasn't, but maybe he is now.

Dash Yourself Upon the Rocks by triedunture 15k E

“The expedition on which we are about to embark will be perilous. Some of us may not make it back. Some of us— Ah, yes, Frenchie?”

“Yeah, I was wondering.” Frenchie lowered his hand. “Are we even sure the Kraken really exists?”

--

Captain Stede Bonnet is on a hunt for the famed Kraken of legend. He doesn't find what he expects--in fact, Ed finds him first.

ghostlight by loveandtattoos 45k WIP T

Stede Bonnet is sick of New York City's upper crust. The only solution is to quit his job, pack up into an RV named ReVenge, and head out West like a true bohemian. But the bohemian lifestyle isn't always the way movies make it out to be, and it's better not to journey alone.

Oil and Blood by WhiskeyFoxtrot 28k WIP T

"Before a dying man washed up onto his beach (well not his beach, but you know… semantics, and all that), Stede Bonnet was having a rather awful morning."

Or: the stress of keeping a mythological creature secret is secondary only to the stress of falling in love with him.

Lighthouse Keeper!Stede/Kraken!Ed.

Once Upon a Summer in San Francisco by samwise 82k WIP M 🍊

The first time Ed laid eyes on Stede Bonnet, he was a shock of obnoxious blue satin sitting out the back of some smoky tent, head resting on his pulled-up knees, and he looked maybe three minutes away from puking up a storm.

It's June of 1978, and Fleetwood Mac are about to headline the world-famous Stinson Festival. Stede's unfortunate consumption of multiple dosed-up brownies is not as funny to him as it is to the Badminton twins. At least there's a kind stranger there to help. Before long, it's clear there's more between them than a bottle of water and some kind words - but of course, it's never as easy as that, and Ed doesn't know how to tell the sweetest, strangest man in San Francisco who and what he really is.

A long, mostly light-hearted slow-burn romance with a dose of angst, a hefty dollop of heat (once we get there) and a HEA.

Gonna shake the water out of every nook by manhorse (feyburner) 5k WIP M

The cherry of Ed’s cigarette glows as he takes a pull. He exhales a cloud of blue smoke and says, “Are you being a dickhead, or are you coming onto me? I genuinely can’t tell.”

foreign and exotic terms of endearment by Pamplemousse 5.7k T

When the new tattoo shop opened down the street, REVENGE painted in the window in a gaudy script, Ed didn’t think much of it.

live in the questions by GoldStarGrl 20k WIP E

The guy in the expensive sports coat and fancy Apple watch has been sitting at the end of the bar since 3 PM.

A Night At Blackbeards's Bar and Grill by soft_october 5.5k T 🍊

“Look - I don’t usually do this, but I am the food critic for The Anchor, and it’s imperative that I -” “Oh, a food critic! Well that changes things.” “Does it?” “Sure. What was that name again?” “Stede Bonnet. Food Critic, Stede Bonnet.” “Right. Well, fuck off, Food Critic Stede Bonnet. Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill is all booked up.”

The manager at the new restaurant Stede is trying to review is being kind of a dick. A certain member of the waitstaff, however, takes a bit of a liking to him.

baby, you can drive my car

by flashlightinacave 1.7k T

“Sorry, do you maybe want to get a cup of coffee?”

The man’s head snaps around, and his kaleidoscopic brown eyes bore into him. “What the FUCK?”

Stede sits up, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it out, and offers a sheepish smile.

“Mate,” the man bites out. “Why the fuck didn’t you mention that you were here?”

Stede shrugs. “You were driving and I didn’t want to distract you,” he says as if it’s the most simple, obvious answer in the world.

or; Ed steals a car, it just so happens to be the same car where Stede is taking a nap

Ship in a Bottle by Neverwaswise 14k WIP T 🍊

Stede had always been captivated by the sea. And by the abandoned lighthouse by a little village far from anywhere at all. So one day, Stede leaves his family and buys that lighthouse and begins renovating it into the home he always dreamed of. Sure its a little more empty than perhaps he’d like. But the people in town are friendly enough. And he might have a ghost living in the lighthouse with him! How exciting!

Intergalactic Tango by ElapsedSpiral 3.7k M 

"Star Log, 3022. Tuesday, I think. I'd need to check a calendar but I'm, ah, currently hiding in a cupboard."

The (very stupid) story of how Stede Bonnet, space captain, and Blackbeard, dread space pirate, came to meet.

Featuring a gratuitously stolen Flight of the Conchords line, dated cultural references and maybe the oddest sex scene I've ever written.

Baddy Zaddy by ElapsedSpiral 18k WIP E 🍊

“I moved to a new flat because I’ve just walked out on my wife of twenty five years. And our two children. Without telling them. Well, I left a letter, but it was brief.”

I started to think he’d hung up. Then he said “go on".

*

A preposterous AU with a preposterous meet cute. Featuring Ed's terribly named sex shop, Stede being a proud ally of the LGBT community and surprisingly tame sex given the premise.

if you get the time, the number is still mine by one_more_page 24k M 🍊

Ed can’t stop thinking about Stede’s question as he hangs up the phone: how are we going to stay friends?

Ed had answered honest. I guess we’ll do what we always do. You can call if you miss me.

Before the line has been dead for a few seconds, the phone in his hand starts ringing. “Um,” Ed says, “didn’t we just say goodbye?”

And even though Stede is somewhere else entirely, Ed can hear the smile in his voice as he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world: “I missed you.”

—

OR

A series of phone calls as Stede and Ed go from childhood friends, to adults who can't connect, to something more.

a small adventure by gangnamstiles 4k T

“So, you’ve seen the Stede Bonnet shit,” Jack says, plunking down his tankard and straddling the stool.

“See, you all keep saying ‘shit’. That’s so vague. Be specific for fuck’s sake,” Edward says, locks his phone and tosses it on the table in front of him.

“This pompous little amateur had the nerve to ask for a review on his new podcast,” Izzy spits the word like that’s not what they’re doing.

Conflict of Interest by ElapsedSpiral 24k

“You get it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Stede said, reflexively. “I think I do.”

Ed looked pleased at that. “I think you do too.”

*

Ed and Stede crash into one another, literally and figuratively. Things get worse (and better) from there.

Lawyer!Stede/Businessman!Ed AU

rpf that i clicked on like ‘wtf is this’ and next thing i knew i was crying:

the body believes by Anonymous 16k E

“Fuck off, shut up. What I mean is—I want it to look right, you know?” He looks at his hands, his feet, then over at Taika where he’s folded up in the chair from Hell like fucking origami. He looks at him, and for a split second Taika can see someone else behind his eyes.

Ah, Taika thinks. Yeah, that does kind of make sense.

Already by triedunture 3.6k E

Taika isn't going to let anyone else play Blackbeard.

[otterandterrierwrites]

wonderful unknown - part 1

A/N: About 392,892 days ago, I asked people to send me prompts and I never finished completing all the requests. A recent chat on the Discord about Bloodline and Leia retiring and travelling around the galaxy with Han made me come up with this idea, and a way to use all three prompts @alwaysstarwars​ suggested.

This is, hopefully, part 1 of 3. Enjoy!

***

20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

Han hadn’t meant to sneak up on his wife. It wasn’t his fault—first off, Leia knew he was on his way home. Second, he didn’t know she was already there herself. And third, he wasn’t even being particularly sneaky. 

He realized she was home when he heard her voice coming from the open door to their bedroom. Some politician or other bothering her even outside of office hours, probably. After decades of marriage, Han knew better than to loudly interrupt the call. It would put a swift end to his plans for the evening, and he was no fool. He couldn’t hear an answering voice, which meant it wasn’t a holocall. He was just going to slip noiselessly into the room to let her know he was there and hope the sight was enough to entice her to say her goodbyes to whoever was keeping Leia from him.

Making sense of what Leia was saying just then wasn’t a conscious decision he made, and he would claim the same for his feet slowing to a halt just outside the door.

‘Yes, I’ve made up my mind about it. Don’t laugh—why is that so hard to believe?’ Leia was saying. ‘Just because you’ve loved something for most of your life doesn’t mean it’ll always be that way. I need a change, I don’t want to spend another 25 years tied to this. Yes, I’ll tell your dad soon... I think he might appreciate it, actually. He’s tired of it, too, I can tell. Okay, I have to go now, baby. Han will be here any minute now and we’ll have to talk. Love you too, see you soon.’

Han felt as if someone had suddenly opened an airlock. As if carbonite was filling up his lungs and turning him to stone. Leia was… breaking up with him? And she thought he would appreciate it? And she had told their daughter about it first?

This was all wrong. This could not be happening to him. Had he hit his head on his way home and was hallucinating this whole scene?

‘Han! When did you get here?’ Leia’s voice seemed to float from far away, even as he could see her standing right in front of him, smiling brightly at the sight of him. Her expression dimmed as she caught his—he probably looked like a powered-down droid right now. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t want to get a divorce!’ Han blurted out.

Leia frowned at him, her mouth hanging open as she tried to find the words. ‘That’s… excellent news?’

‘Is it?’ Han raised his eyebrows, not bothering to hide how hurt he felt. ‘’Cos you seemed pretty sure of yourself a minute ago!’

‘Han, what are—what did you think I was talking about?’ Leia asked, the pitch of her voice rising incredulously as realization seemed to hit her. ‘And why are you eavesdropping?’

‘I’m not, I was—just happened to hear, and then—’

‘And then you listened behind the door?’

‘Okay so what were you talking about?’ Han said, trying to go back to the original topic. Leia gave him a look that said she was not forgetting about that anytime soon.

‘Why don’t you get out of my way, calm down, and then I can tell you about it like I was planning to before you started yelling nonsense?’ She stepped around him and began walking down the corridor into their living room. Han followed.

‘Okay, but just to be clear, it’s not divorce?’

Leia stopped and he would have walked right into her if the glare she was giving him hadn’t been so deadly.

‘No!’ she snapped.

In the living room, she headed towards the liquor shelves and took out a bottle of Whyren’s Reserve. She poured two drinks and thrust one towards Han, still giving him the stink eye—but he could tell she was forcing it now, for dramatic effect. Maybe he deserved that.

‘Divorce you,’ Leia muttered, snorting softly. ‘You idiot.’

‘You’re not being very reassuring right now,’ Han informed her, stepping closer.

‘Oh, you’re not living this down anytime soon, hotshot.’ Leia’s brown eyes softened and the hint of a smile appeared. With all the commotion, they hadn’t even properly greeted each other after a week apart.

‘A toast to you not giving me the boot yet?’

Leia clinked her tumbler against his and they took a fortifying sip before she grabbed the lapel of his jacket and pulled him down for a kiss. Saying that he’d almost lost her was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but Han still held her close and kissed her hard.

‘Alright, you scoundrel, let’s save some for later,’ Leia told him as she broke apart and patted his chest, an appeased smile lighting up her pink-tinged face. He reluctantly let her go and Leia sat down on the sofa, sighing as she took a moment to collect herself. ‘I’m stepping down from the Senate. That’s what I was talking to Jaina about. I wanted to tell you first, but… it came up.’

That was code for “Jaina used some Force mumbo jumbo to suss it out”, Han knew, but that wasn’t what made him choke on his drink.

‘You’re quittin’ the Senate?’

‘I’m not quitting. I just won’t come back after my term is up.’

‘Same thing. You’re retiring from politics,’ Han stated for clarity, leaning back against the bar.

Leia nodded. Her fingernails tapped her glass, a gesture that hinted at the same nervousness reflected in her eyes as she looked up at Han. ‘What do you think about it?’

The combination of relief and elation at the news made Han laugh.

‘I think that’s wonderful, sweetheart. If a bit hard to believe.’

‘Oh, not you too.’ Leia rolled her eyes. ‘Jaina didn’t believe I’d do it, either.’

‘Can’t blame us. You love politics. You’re good at politics. You live to serve.’ There was no bitterness in Han’s voice when he stated those facts because he didn’t feel any. After the war, they had both had to learn how to navigate an adult relationship and compromise so that they got to do what they were good at and still be able to be a family. Sometimes that meant extra long work days for Leia; sometimes it meant a week away from home for Han. No matter what, they chose each other and to make their life together work, and that’s all that mattered.

‘That’s the thing. I have served. I know I’ve accomplished a lot in the Senate, but—every single one of those things was an uphill battle against bureaucracy, and I’m tired, Han.’ She looked at her husband and he could see the truth there. 

He’d never understood how she’d put up with it: the hypocrisy, the dishonest negotiations, the gripping over proper procedures and whatnot. She had seemed more irritable about Senate matters of late, he’d noticed as much, but he’d figured if she’d made it this far, she’d just push through, eventually. Leia was stubborn, and she didn’t like giving up on the things she believed in—that was one of the reasons Han had ended up sticking around the rebellion for so long.

As if she’d been reading his thoughts, Leia said, ‘People think I have the patience for it but I don’t, I’ve never had. I’m just really good at pretending because it’s the only way to get things done. But lately I just… I don’t care, Han. Not about the galaxy; I just don’t care for this way of serving anymore.’

Han nodded in understanding. ‘So what then? You have a different job in mind? I can believe you’ll leave the Senate sooner than I’d believe you’ll just go into retirement.’

‘That, you’re right about. I have a couple of ideas I’ve been toying with, but I don’t want to rush into anything. First, I was thinking we could go visit Luke and Jaina. And then,’ Leia said slowly, giving Han a meaningful look, ‘I’m open to ideas on what to do while I figure things out.’

Han gave her a crooked smile. ‘You know, I could use a first mate again, if you wanna slum it at the Falcon. But not until I’ve taken you on a long vacation around the galaxy.’

‘Like a second honeymoon?’ Leia asked demurely.

‘Fitting, since we nearly got divorced just now.’ Han downed the rest of his whiskey and sauntered over to the sofa as Leia laughed. She stopped and gave him a half-exasperated, half-amused look as he knelt in front of her. (And immediately regretted the idea. His knees just weren’t what they used to be twenty years ago.)

‘Do you take this scoundrel to be your unlawfully wedded semi-retirement partner? No takebacks.’

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Leia said, grabbing his face and pulling him in for a long kiss. When they broke apart, she stood up and offered him a hand. ‘Now get up, old man, I’ve missed you too much for you to bust your knees right now.’

[yuzukult]

adore you. || lc & reader

title: adore you pairing: lee chan x reader genre: fluff (eugh, what a challenge) word count: 2.9k warnings: disgustingly cute or whatever idk, otherwise no real warnings :) maybe a bit of profanity thrown here and there! prompt: he explains how these pale orange asiatic lilies can represent new beginnings. a/n: two fics in the span of two days? crazy. you wildin’. anyways, enjoy. :) also, i am using another line from the dialogue prompt event for @/ficscafe, #12. "what are you hiding from me?"

If it’s one thing that Chan hates, it’s being called in at the last minute to work a shift at the flower shop that he’s a part-timer at.

Not to mention, it’s Mother’s Day.

Beige apron wrapped around his frame, he stuffs in another receipt for an order that’s printed at the register. There have been so many pre-made orders that were sent in from online, and the fact that it wasn’t properly staffed here in the first place, on (he repeats multiple times) Mother’s Day, has him appalled.

Did they really think that only three people could handle the rush of Mother’s Day? It’s like… the number one holiday for flowers. Moms love flowers.

Nonetheless, he finds himself stuck here. Grabbing the materials needed for the next customized request, and handing it over to his boss so that she can take care of the aesthetics from there. She trims the stems, pulls out the unappealing petals, and ties them gingerly with a lovely cute bow that matches the shades of the flowers. They’re pretty, he concedes, despite the amount of times he gets pricked by the thorns and has these little scabs on his fingers as a result of it.

“Chan!” One of his co-workers hollers out, and his head jolts to the direction of the sound. “There’s a customer, can you help her out?”

He groans internally. He’s already got four receipts in the stomach pocket of his apron, and he has to help out a customer?

Shuffling through the aisles of buckets and baskets of pre-wrapped flowers, he practically has to drag his feet through the crowds of people because if it hasn’t been abundantly clear, Lee Chan very much does not want to be working on a Saturday, especially on Mother’s Day, when he could be making his mom breakfast in the morning then hanging out with his friends in the afternoon.

“Hey, welcome to le marchand de fleurs—” Chan pauses in the midst of his sentence.

Who was that?

You have dark, long locks that cascade over your shoulders, cheeks gorgeously bright like you’ve been kissed by the sun, and the soft smile that tugs on the corners of your mouth nearly sucked out all the air out of his lungs. In just a plain pair of blue jeans and a white tee, Chan doesn’t know how he’d act if you got dolled up because he’s already swooning from the mere sight of you in casual attire.

“Hi, uh, I’m actually looking for flowers for my mom,” you say, adjusting the straps of your backpack on your shoulders. “Kind of last minute, sorry, I know you guys are swamped. I wasn’t even sure if there was anything left here but—it seems like you guys have at least some things left.”

“I-Uh, yeah, yeah, we uh, we have quite a selection. Do you know what you had in mind?” Chan mentally slaps himself across the face. Is that how we talk to a pretty girl now? Because if so, Chan is starting to believe why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He knows he sounds like a regular flower shop employee, but he should at least exhibit at least a tiny bit of charm.

You shake your head in response. “Honestly, not really. I’ve never uh… bought my mom flowers before, oddly enough. I’d always given her something handmade—” Is Chan levitating? He feels like he’s on cloud nine. You’re crafty, he takes a note of, and he loves that you give your mom something that’s made by you and not something thrown together at the last second (ironically you’re here buying her flowers at the last minute). “—but my throw blanket is taking a lot longer than anticipated. So… here we are.”

“Right,” he grins, attempting to mimic your smile but he can’t replicate how saccharine it is. “How about I show you a couple of options?”

Chan hates admitting it, especially in front of his friends, but he’s sort of a corny romantic. He loves like a high school romance, one where your heart races, even skipping a beat just at a slight hand brush, or even getting caught staring dreamily at your crush.

And well, he’s… sort of going through that with you.

He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, no, that’s so unrealistic. Chan is a romantic, not an impractical person. But uh, he’s believing in immediate crushes because he can’t find a reason why his chest is tightening at the mere sight of your soft smile and pretty lashes brushing against the smoothness of your cheeks. “What do you recommend?” You ask, and he’s surprised he doesn’t trip over the hose on the ground.

Spoke too soon, he does.

He regains himself quickly, laughing awkwardly when he fixes his stance. “Sorry.”

He’s cute. And the way he tries playing off that he nearly just pummeled on his face only makes him more adorable. “Chan, what do people normally get for their moms?”

Chan pauses, appalled that you even know his name. Clearing his throat, he rubs his nape with a tilt of his head. “How’d you know that's the name that I go by?”

You obviously point to the nametag pinned to the pocket of his shirt. It’s a rectangular plastic with his name engraved, but nonetheless the letters are written in bold out for you.

“Right,” he laughs uncomfortably, realizing how awkward he’s being. But he can’t help that you look so pretty and it’s only been the first encounter. “Roses? Can’t go wrong with roses, right?”

“Mm,” you hum lowly in thought. “Truthfully, after what happened at my graduation… can’t say either I or my mom is a fan of roses.”

Chan raises a brow in curiosity. “What? Why is that?”

“Something involving tripping, thorns, heels and grass. Don’t want to get into the logistics of it.”

God, you’re even funny too. Sure, that wasn’t a joke that has him cackling to the point that he’s on the floor, holding onto his stomach while trying to catch his breath, but you knew how to get a chuckle out of him and he likes that. You’ve got a sense of humor.

Your mom doesn’t like roses, he learns just from a brief conversation with you, but he also picks up that you don’t live with her either when you mention how you have to travel a bit in order to get to her, because you don’t want the flower to wilt.

After some discussion, Chan stops in his tracks. He’s been talking to you for the past ten minutes now, trying to gather enough information on what kind of flowers your mom likes (while at the same time, getting bits of pieces on you) and he’s come to a conclusion.

Sheepishly rubbing his neck, he steals a quick glimpse at you then back onto the rows of flowers. “How about we customize it? And build a bouquet of flowers for your mom ourselves.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you suck in your cheeks momentarily in thought. “But… Chan, it’s Mother’s Day. The place is packed. Half the flowers are gone. Do you even have time to help me?”

He wants to say ‘yeah. I’m supposed to be helping other customers. But you’re so cute—I want to spend as much time with you while I can before I do something stupid and miss my shot.’ But he wasn’t gonna say that. Not after a first meeting. That’s way too soon… right?

“Uh. Yeah. I could squeeze some time. Let’s go to the work station.”

Chan is skilled in his job, despite it being a part-time gig, he has a knack for arranging flowers. He chooses a couple strands of peach roses, because you mention how you’re thankful for your mom being there when you needed; peach roses stand for gratitude, genuinity of feelings, and sincerity. It’s to show sympathy for those who are family members and friends, especially. “I know that you guys don’t like it for the thorns but—” Chan pulls out scissors and snips all the pointed edges before displaying it in your view proudly. Then there are the soft orange asiatic lilies that he grabs from a bucket that sits beside the wooden work table; “marriage and purity” is what Chan says, but it doesn’t have to be romantic. Your mom just purchased a new home and retired, you add, and he explains how these pale orange asiatic lilies can represent new beginnings while white stocks are conveyed as having a happy life.

“There’s still some room,” you mention, unsure if the bouquet is supposed to look so… spaced out.

But Chan doesn’t make you feel dumb, he’s good at teaching and elaborating on things while being patient. He gifts you a smile, warm like a nice mug of brewed tea, while sneaking a glance at you over his shoulder. “Truthfully, not all flowers have a meaning. Sometimes, like a dish at a restaurant, you garnish. We can add a couple mini carnations that match the peach of the rose,” he snips the stems of the plant before slipping it into the glass vase, maneuvering some here and there, “... and there’s the pitta negra,” which only looks like green leaves but somehow when he puts them in, it’s slowly being put together. “Oh, dusty millers are good too.”

“Dusty… millers?” You query, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

“Yeah, dusty millers…” he snatches them from one of the bins. “They’re green but sort of ‘dusted’ white. It’ll help transition the peach to the green of the pitta negra.”

Watching attentively, you can’t help but notice the way his nose crinkles and brows furrowed in concentration as he adjusts the bouquet around, taking some out, adding some in, cutting the length of the stems to match the others’ heights—he’s so adept at arranging the flowers, you were truly thoroughly impressed. His fingers work briskly, fam i’m iliar with the work and comfortable in his shoes, and when he pauses, steps back and observes his project, he reaches for some type of succulent. “What’s that for?”

“Succulents don’t actually have a meaning, but they add some variety. Plus, you could use it and say that your mom is like a succulent—full of strength and persistence.”

You snort. He sounds like a walking dictionary, but when he talks about flowers so passionately, you can’t help but admire him. Resembling those strawberry hard candies you’d get on Valentine’s Day during grade school, he’s sweet. There’s even that same feeling of nostalgia; heart palpitating, hands sweaty and mouth dry, body full of nerves because you’re about to drop off those little cutouts you get from supermarkets for Valentine’s Day to pass out to your classmates. There’s always a specific one little square that has a message a bit more heartfelt than the rest, and that’s the one you’d give Chan.

When he walks you to the checkout counter, you find yourself fiddling with the material of your wallet in between your fingers. You wanna ask him out, ask him for his number, or maybe if he goes to school and maybe you guys could catch up and grab coffee sometime.

But what you don’t know is that Chan has been trying to give himself a pep talk in his head for the past ten minutes.

It’s not succeeding, he has to admit, because his hands are shaky as he’s tapping in the total for the bouquet. He even remembers to put an employee discount for you (because maybe, just maybe, you’ll notice him in other ways than only a flower shop worker).

When he completes the purchase, you take back your card and slide it into the slot of your wallet before giving a brief wave, muttering a quiet ‘thanks’ and practically jolting out the door.

Fuck, Chan thinks to himself. It was probably creepy that he gave her his discount… right? She might think he’s some creeper, trying to hit on her when she wasn’t even showing any signs of interest. But nonetheless, he should’ve at least said something, at least try asking if the two of you could exchange texts.

Chan sighs, raking his fingers through his hair as another customer comes to the counter. He’s accepting his fate—he simply has no game.

“Do you think she notices me?”

“No,” you state calmly, stuffing another fry into your mouth. “She already forgot I have a brother and doesn’t remember your name. And she’s one of my good friends. That should say a lot.”

Mingyu pouts, shoulders dropped with his back slouched in the booth of the diner. He’s decided to take you out for dinner, something about “being a good brother” but you already know his motive. He’s got this fat crush on one of your friends, someone closer to his age than your own, and definitely not similar to him at all. She’s colder than a block of ice. “... Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Well,” he begins, getting up from his seat. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’m going to shoot my shot when I come out, so don’t be surprised if I take a bit. Gotta clean up.” When he leaves, you grimace at your sibling as he grins cheekily, excited for his mission but you pause when you spot him.

The pretty boy that helped you at the florists.

“Oh! Chan!”

“Oh, h-hey!” He’s stuttering, nearly tripping over his own untied laces. Chan thinks he’s been caught red-handed, watching you the entire time from his seat (and he was, there’s no denying that). “You’re the uh—”

“The one from the flower shop on Mother’s Day. Held you against your will to help me arrange a bouquet for my mom, and even pressured you into giving me a discount,” you grin cheekily. In all honesty, it’s nice seeing him again, especially since the first time, he made you so nervous that you got cold feet and couldn’t gather enough courage to ask him for his number. “It’s… It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” he replies, mirroring the brightness of your smile onto his because something about your happiness is contagious, and he loves being around you despite only meeting you a second time. Chan has his hands in the front pocket of his trousers, hiding the sweatiness of his palms, and swallows all his anxiety before speaking again. “Don’t worry about the whole discount thing. I did that willingly. How was… How were the flowers? Did your mom enjoy them?”

Straightening your posture eagerly, you nod. “Yeah! In fact, my mom liked it so much, my brother last minute wanted to split it with me. So we said it was from the two of us.”

“O-Oh, wow, that’s flattering,” he says bashfully with heat rushing through his cheeks. “Did uh… did your boyfriend get something for your mom too?”

You furrow your brows. “I’m sorry?”

“Your uh, your boyfriend,” he reiterates, this time even more embarrassed because you didn’t hear him. Chan gestures to the direction that Mingyu walks to. “The one that was here just now.”

You blink blankly. “Right. That’s why I said that. He’s my brother.”

Chan chokes on his saliva. “I’m sorry—what?”

Glancing over at Mingyu who walks out, wiping his wet hands on the fabric of his jeans, he shakes his shoulders before approaching the bar counter, taking in a deep breath. He looks… tense; pushing his hair back and clearing his throat, he leans his forearms against the resin top, putting on the prettiest smile on his face.

“That’s my brother. We actually came here for dinner because he’s got a crush on the waitress here,” reaching for your strawberry milkshake, you take a quick sip as Chan observes your brother get the jitters, laughing incessantly uncontrollably and the girl who only stares at him strangely. “She’s actually my friend but… he’s had a crush on her for some time. So he brings me around in hopes that she’d at least turn his way because I’m here.”

“So…” he turns back to look at you. “You’re… you’re not in a relationship?”

Pursing up your lips, you shake your head ‘no.’ He nods, bouncing his head like this is interesting information, but he’s definitely holding something back. Leaning back against your seat, you stare at Chan cautiously. “What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing,” he says dubiously, and you narrow your eyes at the boy.

“Tell me!”

He figures that this is his chance, since he lost it the first time you bolt out the store, so he pushes down all the feelings of nerves and finally spits it out. “I just… I guess what I was going to say was… does that mean I can ask you out on a date?”

It’s your turn to feel the heat lingering around your face, despite the coldness of the milkshake entering your system. You regret not asking for his number that day, retreating with the bouquet faster than the Flash, because he just seemed so out of your league with his cute coconut hair, handsome face, and pretty smile. And normally, you’d be quick to come up with an excuse why you can’t go out with him, but something about Chan is comforting, so it doesn’t take you long to say ‘yes.’

[romecardoso]

{chay suede, 29, cis man, he/him/his} || rômulo cardoso is a mutant with the ability of bogeyman physiology. they’ve been in new york for twenty-nine years where they spend most of their time as a bartender at the honey trap & drug dealer. when i think of them, i think of waking up before the sun has risen, tied up shoes hanging from a power line, laughter echoing across an empty parking lot. they are affiliated with the brotherhood. [eli, 24, she/her/hers, gmt-3] 

@c23intros

full name: rômulo cardoso nicknames: rome, romy gender: cis male, he/him sexuality: bisexual birthdate: april 15th languages: (brazilian) portuguese as a first language, english as second, dabbles in spanish species: mutant abilities: makes mean drinks, can cook, good at sports affiliation: brotherhood

alignment: chaotic neutral zodiac: aries positive traits: caring, loyal, humorous, a good addition to your haunted house next year negative traits: unforgiving, impulsive, self-centred, shit stirrer, gym rat physical traits: always has facial hair, usually seen with floppy curly brown hair but sometimes shaves it down, pretty buff, handful of tattoos, short king at 5'8 in his human form, though in his bogeyman form he's probably a little over 7 feet i'm sorry

BACKSTORY

TW: parental neglect.

rômulo's parents were never supposed to be more than a fling. he was born kicking and screaming into the arms of immigrant parents who were just trying to make the best of the american dream, and did not have the energy to care for a baby. still, they tried their best, at first. the couple split up when he was still just a baby, mom remarried, and they carried on co-parenting until he was about two years old.

at two, rômulo's father mysteriously disappears. not much is said and not much is done about this, rome's mother assumes he just ran away. by three years old, the first incident happens. his stepdad is playing with him in the living room, and rome shifts. later, a shaken up, mortified stepdad will explain to rômulo's mom that he swears he's seen their child turn into a seven-foot-tall monstrosity for a minute.

it keeps happening after that. whenever rômulo felt any grand emotion -- which was a lot of the time, considering he was a three-year-old --, he would shift and release the bogeyman creature inside of him. even if his mom and stepdad wanted to get used to the image of the flappy-skinned creature their son turned into, that only lasted a week before he learned how to shift into their worst nightmares. he thought it was kind of fun at first, to see his mother scream her lungs out after meeting with a monster around the corner. but it didn't feel like a good joke anymore when she was crying and cowering away, when he just wanted to hug her. at three, he didn't understand why his parents were so scared -- it was just him. to him, it was just a silly thing, no different than sticking his tongue out or clapping his hands.

his father was a mutant, as well as all of that side of the family. rômulo's mom was a human and knew this, but never paid that world any mind; since rome's dad had an invisible mutation, it was pretty easy to ignore. when living with her own son became unbearable, she turned to his father's family. the only person left from that side was tia esperança, a great-aunt, a recluse old lady who gracefully accepted to take in and raise rômulo herself.

tia esperança is rome's entire world. she was already old by the time she took him in when he was three, and she's now ancient, though she will never reveal her age if you ask. she is a hardcore anti-humans mutant, after growing up in a world unaccepting of her own abilities. she decided to raise rômulo to be the most unapologetic, chaotic thing the world has ever seen. she always believed in his powers' potential, and she always treated the bogeyman as his real form -- the human face was just a shell, a charade to trick others. it's still very common, to this day, for her to get mad at him if he shows up in her house with his human face on. funnily enough, he has never been able to find out what her biggest fear is, she has always been greeted with his default bogeyman shape.

so this is how he grew up. thinking so highly of himself-- abandoned by his parents, but at the same time, adored by tia esperança for the same thing that made others turn their back. it got beaten into him, how to love himself, how to put himself up on a pedestal. he grew up and into his powers, and he learned about how the world won't accept him because he is better than them. 

from the kid who learned he could get all the toys to himself by terrorising the other kids in the playground, to the man who doesn't take anything seriously anymore. rômulo, much like you would expect from a bogeyman, is a shit stirrer just for the sake of it. he doesn't go around scaring people often, if only because he's protective these days, but he takes great joy in freaking people out when he does. 

he never had many goals for an actual career in mind, and drug dealing just sort of happened to him, after hanging out with the right (or wrong) crew in high school. he's been dealing ever since, because it gives him good money. for the sake of doing something else with his time and for networking new clients, he also took up a job at the strip club, and he's been bartending for a while there. it's just dark enough in there that he can get away with excusing his slip-ups out of his human form, by the end of the nights. if someone starts blabbering about how they saw a monster, well -- that's enough vodka for you, terry!

CONNECTION IDEAS

tba ! 

[sonic-the-hedgehog-fanfiction]

Chapter 23: Chaotix Chaos

"Yo! I'm Vector the Crocodile! After gettin' a request by Mighty, me and my team went off to the floating island! I just hope this ain't a waste of time... I hate those..."

It was the middle of the day with Vector laying in the midst of a forest, slowly waking up as he gets up, looking very exhausted and confused. "Ugh... Where am I?" he asks, looking around while rubbing his head. "Espio!? Charmy!? Where are ya!?"

With no answer, Vector began to think about how he ended up here. He recalled he was hired by Mighty and Ray to hunt for some island in the sky. They find it thanks to Espio, but upon landing, they get confronted by a red Echidna.

"What are you doing here?" Knuckles asked defensively.

"Oi. A native. Perhaps we should ask 'im, mates," Mighty suggests, acting quite friendly toward the red Echidna, who only points his fists at the group.

"This is my only warning. Get off the island, or I will force you off," Knuckles says, keeping cool this time.

"Hey, back off, buddy! We're looking for some stupid treasure and-"

"I knew it," Knuckles says before going in for a punch, slamming the plane he hits with enough force to destroy it in one shot. "If you guys are after the Master Emerald, looks like I'm taking you out!"

As Knuckles and Vector put up their dukes, a sudden meteor crashes onto the scene. And in mere seconds, said 'meteor' clocks the group and knocks them all out.

Vector grunts as he now recalls getting punched under the chin by a quick and cheap punch. "Man, when I find that Echidna, I'm gonna..." he begins to say before hearing out for sudden buzzing. "Charmy? Hold on little buddy! I'mma comin'!"

As Vector rushes through the brush, he finds Charmy tied up by a large spider's web, unable to speak but buzzing his wings to cause some noise. "Charmy! Don't worry! Vector's gotcha!" he shouts before hearing a bit of hissing. Turning, he spots a large mechanical spider, sporting the Eggman logo on the back. "You wanna go! Charmy's my co-worker! Not your lunch!"

Vector grabs the oncoming attacking legs of the spider and pins it down, only to get pushed off and almost bitten by a lunge. Vector then punches the spider's face in before slamming both his fists down to absolutely crush its head. "A bit nasty, but that'll show ya," he said, going to get Charmy down, getting the webbing off.

"Whew... Thanks, Vec! I thought I was gonna spider-chow," Charmy says before sighing. "But hey, where are we?"

"I didn't quite confirm it... But I think we're still on the Floating Island. Last thing I remember is someone punching me. And I think it was that red guy," Vector says, rubbing under his chin.

"Hmm... Well, why did you get so confrontational!? We could have just talked it out, you know!" Charmy shouts at Vector angrily.

"Hey, don't look at me! Hothead Red was the one who punched our plane apart! How're we supposed to get off this hunk of floating rock!?" Vector shouts back, arguing with the bee.

"I dunno! You think of something! You're the one who got us in this mess!"

"Hmph. Just go scout ahead and see what you can find," Vector says, angrily huffing.

Charmy just pouts before flying up to scout ahead. "Mean ol' Vector, being a jerk... He knows I'm not wrong," he says angrily before looking around. After a bit of exploring, he soon finds... Knuckles hanging off a trap in the trees. "Hey! It’s you! The red guy!"

"The name's Knuckles. And mind giving me a hand? I can't...quite...reach...my foot..." Knuckles says, trying to reach his tied-up foot hanging on the rope, but couldn't get it loose.

"Only if you don't punch me..." Charmy says, crossing his arms.

"What? I wouldn't punch a kid. I'm protective, but not evil," Knuckles says, not wanting to seem like a bad guy.

"Yeah, well... You kind of punched our plane..." Charmy says as he uses his stinger on the rope to cut it, allowing Knuckles to get himself loose.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I might have overreacted a bit," Knuckles admits, tossing the rope aside. "When I heard 'treasure', I thought you guys were here to take the Master Emerald."

"The master what? No no. Not take it. Prove that it exists is more like it," Charmy better explained, though this did nothing to calm Knuckles down. "Don't be like that. I swear! We have no interest in taking any treasure! ...At least I don't... And I don't think Espio does either..."

"...You seem like an honest kid... Alright," Knuckles says deciding to believe the bee. "So what happened? I mean what hit me? I recall something blue and fast..."

"I don't know, but it looked very robot," Charmy said, trying to remember, but everything was just going on so fast. "Come on! Let's go meet up with Vector and try to sort things out!"

Charmy leads Knuckles to where Vector was sitting with his music player loud in his ears. When he sees Charmy and then Knuckles, he was quick to go on the offensive. "You! You're the one that punched me under the chin!"

"Hardly," Knuckles says, ready to get confrontational too. "Someone already beat me to it, you idiot."

"Me? The idiot!? Why you-"

"STOP IT YOU TWO!" Charmy shouted, getting between them. "This is no time to argue! Vector, I just explained our case to Knuckles so please be on your best behavior already!"

"...Urgh... Fine! At least until we leave..." Vector says as he crosses his arms.

"There were three more of you guys somewhere, right? Might as well find them," Knuckles says, acting as leader. "I know this island better so stick with me."

"Before start searching, I decided to take a look at the spider I squashed... That was no ordinary thing," Vector says, pointing to it.

Knuckles sees the logo on the bad and immediately recognizes it from the Flying Battery and Death Egg. "Robotnik..." Knuckles says, clenching his fist.

"Who's that?" Charmy asked, looking at Knuckles.

"You guys don't know? Basically, he's a mad doctor causing trouble on the world below, roboticizing people and causing all kinds of headaches," Knuckles explains based on his last interaction with Robotnik.

"Wow. He sounds scary..." Charmy says, hiding behind Vector.

"Ah, he's not that tough. If he tries roboticizing me, I'll just mutiny. Demand better oil costs and all that!" Vector shouts, comically missing the point.

"Anyway, let's get going," Knuckles says before rushing ahead of the two.

Their first stop was in Hydrocity Zone, which is where Mighty was, trying his best not to get swept away by the currents. He had been taken in by some kind of mole robot earlier but he woke up just in time to destroy it. Hoping to find Ray, he found himself going through a flooded labyrinth and now hanging on for dear life. But as his luck seemed to hit rock bottom, he sees a hand reaching out to save him.

"Need a lift?" Knuckles offered, smiling at Mighty.

"Ah beauty, mate. Am I glad to see someone friendly," Mighty says, really happy to see anyone. He takes Knuckles' hand and hangs onto his back as Knuckles climbs back to rejoin Vector and Charmy.

"Hey, Mighty! Decided to take a dip?" Vector jokes with a smirk.

"'Ey, careful what ya say. I'm pretty heated," Mighty says before calming down. "Anyway, thanks guys. How'd you find me?"

"Saw a hole leading down here from the surface of Angel Island. I deduced that something got dragged based on some grass," Vector says, showing off his sleuthing skills.

"Not bad, mate. Where's Espio and Ray though?" Mighty asks, looking between the three.

"Haven't found them yet..." Charmy admits, but then Vector chimes in.

"I have a good guess on where Espio is. Call it a hunch, but he may be on a high vantage point, looking out for us," Vector says, thinking like a ninja.

"Wow! You mean it?" Charmy asks, really astonished.

"Red Mountain then. Its about as high as any place and I doubt a reptile like him enjoys the cold so much..." Knuckles says, basically referring to the Ice Cap mountains.

"Alright, let's split up then. Mighty and Knuckles? How about you go find Ray? Knuckles knows the island and you'd recognize Ray in a heartbeat, right?" Vector plans out.

"Sounds good. We'll check out Ice Cap. And if he isn't there, we'll try Sand Hill," Knuckles says as Mighty nods, the two leaving to the surface.

"That leaves Espio to us, buddy," Vector says before following Knuckles' lead.

And as Vector deduced, and Knuckles confirmed, Espio was indeed on Red Mountain, surrounded by Buzzbombers and aerial Egg Robos. Though he was quick to dispatch three of the Buzzbombers, he had to hide with his camoflage as the Egg Robos opened fire on him. While they lost him, he had to remain careful. But as he looked back, he saw that the Egg Robos turned on thermal vision, firing at him when he's invisible. Getting shot on the arm, Espio is forced out of his camoflage, him growling angrily before a Buzzbomber rams him over a cliff.

As an Egg Robo approaches to finish the job, a hand grabs him from behind and Espio hears the sound of metal being smashed by a loudmouth. And then a hand grabs him when he started to lose grip on the bit of cliff he could hold onto. "Vector!" Espio called as he seemed shocked.

"One thing you'll get to know about me. I never leave a Chaotix behind. We stick together, we go out together," Vector says in a genuine tone, lifting Espio up.

"Oh man! I thought we were too late!" Charmy shouts, happy that Espio is okay.

"...Thanks, Vector. I owe you," Espio says, smiling at the rescue party.

"Don't mention it! But your arm..." Vector brings up, seeing the injury.

"Just a scratch. I'll be fine..." Espio says, holding his hand out to have Vector not worry. "But I discovered something after I woke up. Check it out."

Espio leads the team to a cliff overlooking a base being set up just out of sight of most people who would come by. Guarding it were two Egg Robos.

"Huh... That would explain the robots... And look. That logo again," Vector says, pointing to the logo of Robotnik.

"'Again'?" Espio asked, looking at Vector, curious by what he meant.

"Long story. We'll explain when we meet up with our host of this island. Come on, you two," Vector said, turning to leave.

"Leaving rather than attack head on? That's rather tactical of you," Espio says, looking at Vector.

"You're injured and we're not exactly a bunch of juggernauts. And besides, we're down one flying squirrel found. I say attackin' when we're much better prepared is better than potential death," Vector says to his fellow reptile.

Espio is a bit taken aback. Up until now, he has only seen Vector as a loudmouth and pretty irresponsible, even thinking him unworthy of any kind of leadership. But to demonstrate otherwise when the stakes matter... Espio couldn't help but smile. "Alright. Sounds good," he says before the two leave ahead.

"...Are they...getting along? I think this whole adventure was way more worth it after all!" Charmy shouts happily as he catches up to the duo as they descend the mountain away from the robot base.

With the Chaotix trio now reassembled, there only remains one member unfound. What of Ray? Is he safe? Or did something happen to Mighty's squirrel friend? Find out next time on... Sonic the Hedgehog!

[infernwetrust]

The Hotbox [Jim Mason x Duncan Shepherd]

Summary: A little look into how Jim and Duncan handle stress.

Warnings: smut, rough smut, fluff, drug use, apply tags as you see fit

WC: 1.9k

A/N: Idk what was going through my head as I wrote this, but I committed to it. Part of my little Duncan x Jim series that can be found on my master list, here. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by queenxxxsupreme

Duncan laid in bed in his birthday suit, an arm behind his head. Laid with his head against Duncan's chest was Jim, also in his birthday suit. The two snuggled closely together, barely paying attention to the horror movie that was on the TV in front of them. Duncan with his free hand, scrolled through his Twitter feed, Jim occasionally glancing between his phone and the TV.

Marijuana smoke created a thick haze in their master bedroom, the smell calming for both of them. Today was a rough day, for the both of them. And for rough days, there was the nightly hotbox. It consisted of just Jim and Duncan, bare. No exceptions. They'd smoke until they were high off their asses or their lungs tapped out. Snacks and drinks were kept nearby for when the munchies struck.

The rules were simple. There were none. The only thing that could save them from each other's wrath in the hotbox was their safe word "Indica". Aside from their safe word, they could be as ruthless as they wanted to be, as they needed to be. Degrading names, within reason of course, rougher play than what Duncan usually brings to the bedroom. His chest was covered in purple and red bruises and scratches from when him and Jim first laid down. Jim was beyond agitated when he got home and it caught Duncan off guard when he had busted through the front door almost knocking the pictures off the walls.

It wasn't all rough play during this time, however. Sometimes their sweetest and most vulnerable sides came out and they'd make love to each other, slowly, round after round after round until one of them were to sleepy to continue. It was usually Duncan.

"Hotbox?" Duncan questioned as Jim stormed passed him

"Hotbox." Jim responded through a clenched jaw, quickly glancing back at Duncan.

And while Duncan had had his own frustrations with work today, it didn't cause him to come home the way Jim did and he automatically knew that he was Jim's for the night. That was a battle he knew he wasn't going to win. Although the roles were clearly defined, Duncan has subbed for Jim a couple of times. In fact, Jim is his first partner that he's ever switched for and he enjoyed it. Sometimes age really was just a number. Jim always fucked Duncan with the stamina he had in his younger years. Rough, fast, and sloppy, it made him a mess underneath Jim every time and that's how the both of them learned that Duncan was really vocal in the bedroom.

Tired of laying around, Jim got up suddenly, firmly pushing his hands into Duncan's chest as leverage, causing him to grunt. He watched as Jim walked across the room, bare-assed. He picked up the leftover joint they had tapped out on, placing it between his lips before reaching for a lighter and lighting it. He casually walked into their walk-in closet, grabbing one of his favorite ties that Duncan wore before walking back over to the bed. He snatched Duncan's phone out of his hand, tossing it wherever.

"Put this on." he said, throwing his tie at him and snatching the sheets off of him. "Lay the other way. Spread for me. Can you do that for me, Mr. Shepherd?"

Duncan nodded, quickly putting his tie on, tightening it just the way Jim liked around his neck, causing Jim to grin. One knee on the bed, he set himself comfortably between Duncan's legs, joint still hanging from his lips as he exhaled. He briefly removed it to lick his hand, grabbing and squeezing Duncan's length. Duncan sighed at the sudden contact of Jim's warm and wet hand, throwing one of his arms behind his head again.

"I swear you fucking trust-fund babies." Jim spat as he stroked Duncan at a painfully slow pace, still squeezing him. Duncan began chewing on his bottom lip, knowing what was coming next. To see his sweet ocean eyes be so condescending was more than a turn on. "Think your so fucking entitled to shit just because you have a little bit of money?"

"A little bit of money?" Duncan managed to get out between his heavy breaths, a small laugh behind his tone. Before Duncan could even take his next breath, Jim had has hand wrapped underneath Duncan's jaw, fingers digging in just a little bit to create that pressure that drove Duncan insane even though it made him mostly light headed. It forced his vision to just focus directly on Jim, ignoring all the other surroundings in the room.

"I didn't say you could speak, now did I?" Jim questioned, squeezing a bit harder.

"N-no." Duncan struggled to get out, lust in his hazy eyes. "But it's funny that you think that-," Jim's palm was already against the side of Duncan's cheek before Duncan could even finish his sentence.

"Always seeking a challenge huh?" Jim questioned again amused, letting up and going back to stroking Duncan painfully slow but with a menacing pressure. "Talk so damn much, so controlling, but you just want someone to fill both of your holes? Isn't that right?" With every word that Jim spoke, Duncan twitched in his hand, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jim picked up the pace quickly watching as Duncan threw his head back, biting down on his lip hard, a series of loud moans escaping from his mouth.

"Don't have any answers for me now do you, huh?" Jim mocked, rubbing at his own length. "Sigh. You fuck-faces never have an answer to anything. Maybe I should go around not giving answers too. I'll just swing my dick around, giving out stupid little flashy smiles, holding fake conversations so people like me better. Just like a little bitch." Duncan squirmed underneath Jim, thrusting upwards to meet Jim's frantic and wild pace. He could barely hang on with how soaked Duncan was from his spit-slicked hand and his own pre-cum. Surprisingly Duncan didn't last long with Jim 'chewing' him out like that.

"Pathetic." Jim said as he stroked Duncan out, watching as his cum painted his stomach and chest, Duncan moaning Jim's name with every squirt. Jim grabbed the end of Duncan's tie, using all of his strength to pull him up from the bed and closer to him.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Duncan mumbled, still a horny mess as he looked him right in his eyes. He was practically begging for Jim through his fake "I'm sorry".

"I'm gonna show you just how sorry you can really be." He tightened Duncan's tie even tighter before pushing him back down on the bed and climbing over him. This was just the beginning of their night in The Hotbox.

But where was all this coming from? Despite Duncan letting Jim know that he didn't have to work and that he would always be taken care of, Jim still persisted, wanting something to do during the day. So he took up a part time job as customer service rep at a t-shirt shop on the board walk, owned by a friend's family. Jim loved his job to put it simply. And his boss and fellow co-workers loved him. He was a positive influence around the shop. Extremely friendly and optimistic, he kept everyone laughing and boosted morale. A master at the art of platonic flirting, most days he's stand outside the shop, with his shirt off or in one of the store branded tank-tops. He didn't even have to say much. People flocked to him naturally, drawn in not only by looks but his gentle persona.

He became a favorite around the boardwalk. Often people would stop to take pictures with him and he quickly became the social media ambassador for the shop's Instagram page. Duncan was also a favorite in the shop, sporting some of the graphic tees that they had to offer. On the days he would pick Jim up from work, they would almost always leave an hour after Jim was off, caught up in good conversation with the store manager or the store owner, his arm wrapped around Jim as he spoke.

But there was just this one guy Jim didn't get along with. Max. A super well-known rich kid, for all the wrong reasons, he got on Jim's nerves anytime the two worked together. Overly confident, overly cocky, but yet so fucking lazy barely helping out around the store or picking and choosing his tasks. He always got off easy, his parents having countless amounts of money to get their sweet baby boy out of trouble. It drove Jim insane. Today at work they had gotten into it real bad, throwing insults back and forth, almost resulting in an actual fist fight, broken up by Jim's close friend who also happened to work with him. By the time his left he was so heated and was missing Duncan extra this evening, so he was relieved when Duncan immediately offered the Hotbox when he entered the house.

Jim fucked Duncan relentlessly against every surface in their bedroom, not letting up at all, taking pleasure from hearing Duncan's bitchy whines and moans as he stretched him out thrust after thrust. The both of them now covered chest to abdomen in purple and red bruises. Duncan scratched and clawed at Jim, leaving hickeys wherever he could, which sadly meant that Jim couldn't have his shirt off at work tomorrow. The scratches down the side of his arms and back were easier to explain, so a tank top would have to do. With Duncan it was free reign, considering the dress code for his work office. He didn't care if they were visible on his neck, he showed them off proudly. Already an established man in life, he had no fears about his future.

"You know I didn't mean all that shit I said tonight right?" Jim asked, looking back at Duncan as they sat together in their bath. Duncan had his head rested against the wall, glass of whiskey on ice in his hand, staring back at Jim.

"I know." Duncan chuckled. "Trust me, I know, but it was so damn sexy hearing you say it because well you're not wrong." He wrapped his free hand that rested on the side of the tub around Jim, holding him close.

"Plus, I didn't really have any one to put me in my place during my younger years." he winked. "Also was a bit condescending and entitled, but hey, it got me ass left and right."

"You're terrible." Jim laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of Duncan's jaw. "Cute, but terrible. And you want to know the sad part? I'd probably be right there in your lineup."

"I wouldn't let you be. You're not like everyone else, ocean eyes. You mean the world to me and I wouldn't forgive myself if I just tossed you to the side."

"I love you s'much, Dunc."

"But I mean if you're willing to give up that a-,"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, sir."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction​ @theneverendinghunger​

[zadien]

I wish you would write a fic where Kai lost his best friend Tala on a mission / job, but instead of being dead Tala shows up years later with amnesia... as a Russian assassin... potentially with a metal arm.

Okay so initially I looked at this and yes, I get it, the blue eyes, the murder walk, very Tala. Ready to fuck up everyone’s day. The only place I stumbled was with Kai because Kai ain’t no Steve Rogers, So that, my dear anon, would not work.

HOWEVER! (bear in mind this is really rough and not beta’d and it could be so much better if I had time)

----

It starts with Voltaire’s death. The man was a demanding menace alive, he’s not any better dead. Kai finds himself wading through so much paperwork until he thinks he might drown under the weight of it. It’s in the midst of that he finds the documents, the ones that sign over a lab to Balkov. It stuns him to silence when he first reads it, and then the next ten reads don’t change the outcome. He consults his lawyer: is this legal?

It is.

It’s one final strike from the bastard from beyond the grave.

It doesn’t make sense. He thought Voltaire cut all ties with Balkov after the Black Dranzer debacle.

It’s only natural he reaches out to Tala. 

Or Tala reaches out to him. Honestly, he’s not really sure how it goes. All he knows is that they find themselves camped in Kai’s study, pouring over blueprints and They both have an understanding of just how bad Balkov is, and Tala’s not going to let Kai just go on his own. Balkov isn’t his to fight. And if Tala goes, well the others are sure to follow.

And that’s how they find themselves on a helicopter sneaking into a Hiwatari corp secret lab. Kai arranges a meeting, distracting the big wigs with talk about making sure everything is okay before the handover to Balkov. It sends the place into a tizzy - and while they’re fussing around Kai, Tala and co sneak in through the basement. It’s simple. It’s flawless. Kai doesn’t expect anything less.

But it’s still a relief to get out of there, to catch Tala’s eye as they board the helicopter and know that they work as a team just as well outside the bey stadium. And Ian’s talking about going for drinks after they get back, and it’s something so normal, so relaxing after the week from hell that Kai contemplates it. It could be fun. A way to de-stress. 

The explosion, when it comes, rocks the helicopter. Everything’s screaming, the devices and gauges. Ian. Spencer struggles to keep the chopper in the air while Kai frantically whispers prayers, threats, anything that’ll keep them in the air as searing red spikes through his head. It’s while they’re being pitched about that Tala lurches from his seat just as the chopper shudders violently. Tala falls out.

Bryan lunges. It’s a fluke that he grabs for the red heads arm and catches him before Tala drops. Instead, Tala dangles over the sea of white below, broken by jagged black coniferous peaks. His other arm hangs uselessly beside him. Kai crawls to Bryan’s side to help but his vision is full of black spots and his hands won’t work. All he can do is tug on Tala’s sleeve.

There’s a cold resolve in those frigid blue eyes when they meet Kai’s, and even as the world is spinning around them, and they’re descending too fast while Bryan shouts and Spencer fights to stay aloft, Kai knows what Tala plans to do. Even as he tries to keep a hold on that asshole, Tala’s letting go.

Kai doesn’t even have a chance to reach for him when the world pitches again and with screaming machines and a smoking tail, the chopper dives to the ground.

It’s a miracle they live.

-

It’s called a freak accident. A mix of chemicals triggered a reaction resulting in an explosion that destroyed the lab. Luckily casualties were minimal - the majority of staff having been laid off during the transition of ownership. Kai is out of commission for six months and he spends another two years recovering, grieving and checking the results of the investigation. He and Tala planned it meticulously. It should have gone off without a hitch.

The Blitzboys avoid him after the loss of their leader. They don’t know how to function without him. And inevitably, they gravitate back, looking to Kai as a sort of lacklustre replacement. Kai hates them for that. But he can’t turn away from them either. it’s fucked up, the whole thing. It’s the lack of a body, Kai decides. If they had a body, could be certain Tala is dead, they’d cope better.

And then Mystel climbs through his window. Kai throws a decanter at his head but the blond fucker dodges it. And stunned, bewildered, and rendered mute with shock, Kai watches the git walks down his stairs to open the door. Brooklyn enters and Kai is so done. He doesn’t need this. Yes, Balkov is back in the labs. What do they want Kai to do about it? It’s not his job. He can’t stop the man, he doesn’t have that power.

Brooklyn pulls out a photo. It’s grainy, full of shadows and almost indistinguishable. The figure stands in the shade of a building, a metal arm clutching a door, but Kai recognises the face. It’s hard not to. It’s Tala. It’s dated two months ago. He’s alive. 

-

When Tala awakes, he’s in the tube again, surrounded by lukewarm green water and with an array of wires and tubes attached to him. He hates the tubes. Hates the feeling of floating while tethered in place. Hates the mask they put over his mouth to keep him breathing while he drowns. His arm is cold and numb, he can’t feel it, can’t use it to pull out the tubes. He’s not even sure it’s there but fuck it hurts. So it has to be. He can’t turn his head to look at it. He’s chained once more. A dog, waiting for his master. 

-

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Flare Up

Ao3,   MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic sleepxiety

Warnings: Talk of anxiety, panic disorders, and panic attacks. 

Word Count: 1,245

Virgil dragged his steps along the pavement, pulling his hair out of its spiked ponytail- if only to bring a sliver more insulation to his freezing cold face. He shoved his hood up onto his head, sinking back into the small comfort it provided him. His earrings bumped the side of his jaw occasionally, a touch of icy metal stinging his skin, but he couldn’t find the energy to remove them. 

The rain snapped and bit at Virgil’s cheeks, his nose, his hands- anywhere it could seem to reach and then some. Maybe that wouldn’t have been so frustrating if Virgil could just breathe, but every time he opened his mouth to make an attempt at it the forceful winds swept away his air and left his lungs burning. Like maybe his chest was filled with snow, but it never melted.

But he liked it. Or, no, he needed it. Or something like that… 

Being outside in the late falls of New England hurt, but it was the only thing that ever felt fresh in times like these. It was clean and clear, and it didn’t stifle Virgil, didn’t make him feel boxed-in like an animal. 

And it was quiet. Quiet except the rain, and the wind.

Virgil’s footsteps echoed through the street, each sound eventually carried away with the weather. The destination wasn’t much further now, but he almost wished it was, just to keep this sharpness that- for once- found its way into his addled mind. 

The shop was just over the hill, an oddly steep one for a downtown area. The sidewalk curved up in an incline, keeping the quant building just out of view as one approached, all except for its sign. Wooden, old, painted all in black with a delicately embellished logo. Virgil walked with slow strides, reading again and again the letters painted there as they grew more legible. 

Flight Coffee Co.

To say Virgil knew the place well would be an understatement. Even if all the buildings around him set their lights dark, and the stars went out, and the moon turned its face away, Virgil would be able to see the words in their exact font. He would still see the shape of the hanging sign, swaying and knocking in the wind, and he’d see the wide windows set into the front of the store. And, he might even see the heavy door opening, revealing a tall, lanky young man stepping outside. A young man with dark skin, a thick tied-up poof of bleached-brown hair, and a pair of shades tucked into the chest pocket of his black leather jacket.

Virgil felt a smile creep out from his teeth. A weak, small smile. But a smile.

The punk stopped a few yards away from the coffeehouse, watching the employee bolt and lock the door for the night. He waited semi-patiently until the man turned, those blackish-brown irises meeting his green and grey ones. The man’s face twisted up in momentary confusion, turning then concern as he tucked his keys into a spare pocket.

“Virge? What are you doing here, baby?”

Virgil stuffed his hands- burned raw and red with the cold- into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Hey, Remy. I- um, I got a little impatient waiting for you to get off work, I guess.”

Remy’s expression melted into soft understanding, as he reached forward and brushed back Virgil’s bangs with a warm hand.

“Oh, honey,” he murmured, “You had one of those days?”

Virgil didn’t answer. He leaned into Remy silently, stretching up to press his face into the taller man’s shoulder. His jacket was well-worn and soft, still carrying the distinct smell of leather goods, but ingrained as well with the scent of coffee and clean dishes. Virgil burrowed even closer when he felt Remy’s arms loop around his waist, shielding him from the weather, comforting him. 

Virgil didn’t always like being touched after a day riddled with paranoia and anxiety, in fact oftentimes that only set him more on edge. Those were the days when he’d hole up in his room, watching short horror films on YouTube and texting frantically with his friends, either Andy or Logan most of the time (as both suffered from similar anxious disorders to him). 

But there were other days, days where he felt so desperately alone and tiny, when he just needed someone to be near him. And that someone was always Remy. 

“You want me to walk you home, handsome?”

Virgil grumbled at the nickname, and also at the prospect of letting his partner go, however briefly. Remy laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head through his hoodie. 

“...We probably should. It’s dangerous at night,” Virgil conceded. 

“Well,” Remy stepped back far enough to link his arm with Virgil’s, turning them in the direction of home. “We live in New England, so, not really.”

“Killers can live anywhere,” Virgil countered, matching Remy’s steps. “Don’t discriminate, R.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, alright. Good you got me to defend you, huh?”

Virgil raised his eyebrows, smirking incredulously. Remy kept a straight face for about five seconds before bursting into laughter. 

“Yeah- Yeah, okay,” he giggled, “You’re right, you’re right; I’m not nearly as scary as you, you big goth.”

“Damn right,” Virgil grinned, nudging Remy with his shoulders as they walked. 

It was a quiet trip on Virgil’s part, as he was content to just listen to Remy talk about his day. The barista always had a lot to say about his customers- most of it negative, all of it funny. Virgil’s steps were slow, unhurried, as he let the tension fall from his shoulders.

The cold still stung, but it wasn’t nearly as noticeable with the almost supernaturally warm body of Remy plastered against his side. Nothing was especially noticeable under those circumstances, really, aside from the high pitch of Remy’s voice and the secure feeling of his body right there. It left no room in his brain for anything else, a rare kind of relief that Virgil could never get enough of.

This was always just what he needed. Virgil let his eyes fall closed, his eyelids heavy and burning from a long lack of sleep, and leaned his head back against his boyfriend’s shoulder. It was alright to do so; Remy knew the path, and would make sure he didn’t stumble or fall. 

It was a short time to their apartment complex; a tall, white, rectangle of a building sticking up from a disproportionately small parking lot. It was a little dingy, a little run-down, but Virgil would be lying if he said it didn’t feel like home.

He lifted his head, smiling tiredly. 

“Hey.”

Remy stopped short what he was ranting about, giving Virgil his attention.

“I love you,” Virgil muttered, half-against the side of his head. Remy (poorly) hid his momentary surprise with an eyeroll. 

“Duh- I’m a total score, Babe.”

“Remy.”

Remy groaned softly, hiding his face in his free hand. 

“Okay, fine- I love you too, you big sap.”

Virgil grinned. Before he could worry about which of their annoying neighbors would see them, or what the frosty weather was doing to them, or if the flickering fluorescent streetlights would fall on them- he jolted forward.

Remy made a startled sort of squeak when their lips connected, his eyes widening. But then he adjusted, and kissed back, and Virgil really did manage to forget about everything else. 

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

[jennbabeyy]

Stepmom Material (Pt. 8)

A/n: Sorry for the long wait ! Part 8 is finally here. We get to see a little glimpse of what was behind Coco’s decision. Thank you guys for loving Stepmom Material. Let me know what y’all think!

Coco leaned against the wall, his eyes moving around the crowd. The murmurs and conversation carried around him without any distractions or any glances at him. It was a bit of a reflex, something he found himself trying not to do when he went somewhere. Though this time, it wasn’t a reflex, he was looking for the face he now only sees in his dreams.That certain face he was looking for was no longer in his life and he didn’t really have anything or anyone to blame but himself.  

The crowd around him seemed to get bigger by the minute and Coco tried to not let the noises get to him. He’s not a huge fan of big crowds but something in him wanted to be here. There wasn’t a personal invitation from any of them and he knew he had no right trying to be here after all the shit he has pulled. 

But he was proud. 

Johnny Coco Cruz was proud of his daughter when he heard first from Angel that she was getting the highest achievement award from her high school. His daughter was doing big things and he wasn’t there next to her side to be able to enjoy it. But someone else was. 

Y/n had taken Letty in during one of the most difficult times ever for everyone. Coco didn’t remember much except from finally waking up in a room at the small clinic that the Mayans used when someone got hurt. The only thing that came to mind was his entire body screaming in pain.The days after that were a bit hazy. 

Shit was tough for a while, Coco was tied down in a bed recovering from two gunshots, one in the shoulder, another in the chest. His recovery took twice as much as expected and there was nothing he could do. He was alone most of the time, only company besides his brothers was the nice older nurse with the motherly touch he never had. 

She took care of him, encouraged him to get better. He was in pain most of the time but he deserved it. The pain reminded him of the shit he’s done in the past and he took that shit in with no complaints. According to Angel he almost died during surgery and having Creeper and Tranq in the operating room wasn’t helping the doctor.  His brothers thought he was some type of badass, a legend going down in Mayan history for surviving the worst of the worst. 

Though he didn’t feel like it. 

They never visited him those 6 months he was recovering. 

That was everything he needed to stay away. He was the poison in their lives and he didn’t want to bring any of them down. 

A small cough next to him brought him out of his daydream and he knew who it was without turning his head.

“Thought I would find you here.” Angel spoke, his eyes wandering the crowd before stopping on the familiar head sitting in the front row. 

Coco starred in the same direction, his eyes never leaving Y/n. Her hair was longer than he has last seen before and his fingers twitch at his side. His favorite thing was to run his fingers through her hair while cuddling on the couch. He still remembers the softness of her hair, especially when he misses her the most. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to miss this , even if they don’t want me here.” 

From the corner of his eye, Coco saw Angel nod his head in agreement. There wasn’t much he could say to him about everything that’s happened. He already had to deal with Bishop lecturing him the moment he woke up in the clinic. 

News had already broke that Johnny was giving up his rights as a father and leaving Letty in Y/n’s guardianship. And Bishop made sure to use every second he had to let him know how much of a good one he had lost because of selfish reasons. But little do they know what he was doing was the most selfless thing he’s done in years. 

“Ez said she’s doing good. No more sneaking out late and shit.” Angel nodded his head towards the former prospect, who was sitting in the front row seat next to Y/n. Both of them were currently laughing at something one of them said.

She looked carefree, and glowing. Ez had made an impact on both girls' lives, keeping his promises to not only Letty but Y/n. Making sure Letty could understand her homework or even challenged her with new books everytime he came to visit. 

“She happy?” Coco turned to finally face Angel, eying his best friend since they were teenagers. He was the only one during these couple of months to completely take Coco under his care.

“Leticia? I mean yeah, but she’s a teenager and she’s got all these hormones raging up. Ez said there were a couple of times she lost her temper at the teacher and Y/n had to take over to make sure she wouldn’t get a full month of detention. Something about challenging the teacher over some sexist shit he said in class.”

Coco chuckled, and shook his head. Yeah she was all him all right. There was nothing that Leticia took after her birth mother and he was fucking thankful for that. She has been a one night thing and ended up back at his place pregnant. 

He thought his life was over at the thought of having a child. And when Leticia was born, a part of him warmed up to the idea of being a father. He was on the right track and he was going to be the best dad he could even if he never had one to begin with. 

And he thought he was going to make it. 

Until she left them, stating he wasn’t good enough to be a father with the type of lifestyle he had going. Her words played on replay that entire night, and it got to him. He couldn’t be a single dad to a four month old baby. 

Leticia wasn’t going to have a better future if she stayed here with him. He didn’t know shit about being a parent, his own mother was a shitty parent. 

Angel found them a day later with Letty screaming her lungs out and Coco being sleep deprived.   

While Angel took care of Letty, Coco took a shower where he finally made a decision. 

Letty’s mother was right, one night and he couldn’t even get through it without Letty crying the entire time. The best thing to do was putting her up for adoption with a family that would be able to give her anything, and everything she wanted and deserved. 

Because she deserved more than him. She definitely deserved more than his shitty ass mom. 

And that’s what he did. Until his mom found out and took her in. 

Then shit really went bad. There’s never a day where he beats himself up about the way his mom treated Letty or about the way Leticia spent almost her entire life thinking he was her older brother. 

He couldn’t take those years back, no matter how much he tried to make sure she was good. To have a family she deserved. Something always came to ruin everything. 

Coco cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the front row. Leticia had now joined Y/n and Ez talking to them excitedly, her eyes lit up as she explained something to Ez. And he laughed at her explanation. 

She deserved that. 

Looking at both of them took him back to the night. Noone knew about it. He kept it to himself. Not even Angel who at this point knew his darkest and sinful secrets and he wanted to keep it that way. 

That night at the clubhouse when it was boy’s night playing poker with his brothers. Noone knew that before that he had been riding through town when he ran into her. 

It had been 16 years since he last saw her. The last thing he remembers of her was Letty screaming in the background and her walking out the door with bags in each hand. 

In all honesty, he thought she would’ve overdosed by now. Letty’s mom was no saint, never really had a permanent home. Always hanging with the wrong crowd and doing favors in exchange for some sort of drugs.

But there she was, hanging off some random dude without a care in the world. He wanted to leave before she saw him, but the second his eyes met hers. He knew shit was going to come crashing down. 

A smirk appeared on her face, and when he heard Letty’s name come out of her mouth. It was like a rage of anger overcame his body and he saw red. 

How dare she say his daughter’s name just like nothing. The same one she left behind so she could still be the street hoe who gives daily blowjobs for some drugs. 

The same words she once yelled at him 16 years earlier, were the same ones he heard as he walked out of the place and hopped on his motorcycle. 

The words he tried to keep out of his mind were finally set free and she fucking did it. 

16 years later she fucking broke him again. And she knew what she was doing. 

Angel’s voice brought him back to reality and he followed Angel's eyes toward the front of the auditorium where the principal finally started the ceremony. 

Coco tried to stand still while the ceremony continued and saw as other kids were honored. He heard Angel chuckled beside him as Coco shifted once again. He couldn’t really be in one place for a long time, his nerves were getting the best of him. 

Angel nodded his head towards Letty’s direction where she was acting the same way. Shifting in her seat and constantly fixing her hair. She was nervous as well. Y/n had given up at telling her to stop, it was no use. Leticia always fidgeted in her seat, it was their thing.

A smile made its way towards his face, even at times like these they were in sync. It was like they have always been in each other's lives. And he wished it was like that. 

“And for our next award, I would like to take the time to list the many accomplishments this young lady has achieved. She has managed to become our only student to reach the highest GPA in our school. We had a bit of a troubled start when Leticia first started out with us. Lunch detention became a constant thing with Letty. I like to joke that maybe she just wanted to eat lunch with me.”

The crowd laughed, while Letty covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. 

“But after getting to know Letty, I realized that she is a passionate student. She is intelligent and she is not afraid to give the boys on the debate team a piece of her mind. Which let me tell you, I have never seen a group of boys constantly being challenged like that. She stands up to defend others and she is kind to those around her. This past year I have seen an amazing change with Leticia, not only were her grades going up but actually attending every class. She has truly made a difference not only within herself but here at this school. All she needed was a push and people to believe in her.”

Coco watched as Letty leaned on Y/n, and his heart soared at the sight in front of him. 

“So on behalf of the school and myself, we like to honor Leticia Cruz with this academic achievement award.” 

The room roared with applause as Letty stood up giving both Y/n and Ez a hug before making her way towards the stage. A folded piece of paper in her hands and from where Coco was standing he could see her hand slightly shaking of nerves. 

Next to him, Angel had his phone out taking pictures as Letty received her award and shook hands with the faculty staff. Coco never took his eye of his daughter, taking in the pride he felt in that moment. He’ll just have Angel send him those photos later, he didn’t want to miss anything.

And watching his daughter march up on stage with a sense of confidence, this was it. This is what he wants for her and no one around him saw that Letty wouldn’t be able to achieve this with him in her life. She was meant to be out of his life for the better. Like it was planned 16 years ago.

The room became quiet when Letty reached the podium. Placing her piece of paper in front of her, she let out a deep breath. 

“Uh, when Mrs. Rivera approached me a couple weeks ago about writing a speech, I instantly said no. I’m not a big fan of crowds even if she threaten lunch detention.” Letty looked around, feeling every eye on her as the crowd chuckled. 

“But my guardian made me realize that I should be proud of my accomplishments, to be able to take this moment in and she also threatened to ground me. And she is kinda scary so-” Letty smiled at Y/n, who shook her head.  

Letty continued her speech, not sounding as nervous, “I want to thank Mrs. Rivera, for not only taking the time to push me but to be able to give me a second chance. Most people take a look at me and instantly decide that I shouldn’t be able to achieve certain dreams or be even be given a second chance. I was given a second chance, not only in school but at home too. I want to thank Y/n, ever since I’ve met her she's been the rock I never had but needed.”

Coco watched as Ez wrapped his arm around Y/n and shook her gently to congratulate her. 

“She’s been the mom I’ve never had and I know we go at it sometimes but I’m thankful to have you and be able to just talk to you. You’re my mom and thank you for taking that role and taking care of me.” 

Letty looked up from her paper as she searched the audience in front of her. Coco leaned against the wall, and held his breath knowing what was coming next. Angel cleared his throat, as he looked at anything besides the teenage girl in front of him. 

His eyes met hers, and he saw the shock go through her body. She gasped quietly but the microphone in front of her picked it up and even from where he was standing he could hear it clearly. He could feel her eyes searching his body, and he knew she was making sure his injury wasn’t as bad as everyone made it seem. He was covered up though, his scars were there but no one will be able to see them. And he wanted it that way. 

Letty stood still, her eyes never leaving his. It was a few seconds but Y/n managed to notice that Letty’s attention was taken away and turned around to see what Letty was looking at. 

When he finally took his eyes away from Letty, he immediately met Y/n and he could see the tears gather up in her eyes. They weren’t expecting to see him anytime soon or if he even was healed enough to walk around town.

Shallowing the lump in his throat, Coco managed to take away his eyes from the beautiful face he had missed all these months and when he saw the tears stream down her face, he knew he couldn’t take it anymore. So he painfully broke eye contact and turned to Angel as they walked out of the auditorium. 

A smile reached his face when he heard Letty continue her speech as if nothing happened and continued to thank Ez for helping her with her homework, along with other teachers. 

That’s my girl.

Tagged: 

@carlaangel86​ @xnarca​ @bellamyblech @royale-trash-slytherin @hgs2018 @imagines-and-preferences1216 @i-just-feel-gr3at @sweet-bumble-bee @plentyoffandoms @technicallyvirtualmilkshake​ @poetsheart @onelovesr @docsangel​ @may114​ @glimmerglittergirl​ @whovianayesha​ @trulysucuubus @laricebabe

[atypicalacademic]

Hearth

Dragon Age

A/N: Slight canon divergence where Princess Aeducan survives the Deep Roads and stays with the Wardens and co. as a companion

Words: 1k

Warnings: Exile? A mention of blood, I guess.

Relationship(s): Vijaya Aeducan x Morrigan

*

Betrayed, exiled and cast to her death in the Deep Roads, Princess Vijaya Aeducan finds a little more than survival.

*

There were bats, a noise like water rushing through her ears, and her own heart, thumping with the strike of her axe as she kicked the last corpse down beneath her. Her blade caught on something softer than rock, and she ripped it clean, drawing from her failing strength, and her limbs, worn to scars and muscle to let it tear, break, and shatter.

And then there was fire.

“Ancestors!”

Vijaya’s knees buckled, and hit the ground, no, the void, no, she was hanging upside down, hot and cold cutting through her like a thousand knives, she was floating, no, drowning. Dying. It was blinding, singeing through her shut eyelids, and she threw up her shield, leaning her head against its cool, familiar comfort. She was dying. The ground writhed beneath her knees like deep stalkers do, cutting and chafing through the thin armor. All she heard was the howling, the screaming- like lava bubbling up from the canals back home, but so much, so everywhere.

The warmth was crushing her from within, seeping into her throat, her breath, and she swung her axe, blindly, hitting at a foe she could not see. Where was she? In the belly of some monstrous beast? Taken by the darkspawn, tainted and cast to the lava? Searing her like a brand, twisting her into knots and wringing her loose- but if she were drowning-

If she were drowning, she would not breathe. She was breathing too much, here- swallowing air like a woman starved- it filled her lungs, overflowed. She crawled on her knees with her shield held up, stone and something else, sharp as needles, pricking at her skin. She had to move. She had to move, and find a crevice, or a cave, and her bearings and her strength. By the Paragons, she would not die here. Not in this fit of madness, not crying to the Stone for mercy, not frightened and exiled and gone-

Something approached her, the same shifting noise as when her own limbs dragged through this ground.

Vijaya raised her axe, strong muscles locking into place from instinct. “Stand back! I warn you now.”

The voice that answered was cool, steady, smooth and firm as stone.

“I mean you no harm, dwarf.”

Dwarf?

“What have you done?” Vijaya growled. “What burns?”

She heard a weight sink beside her, and she tensed, tightening her grip on her axe.

“I have done nothing.” They said simply. “’Tis only the sun. I suspect you are unused to it.”

The sun?

Her next breath came easier, heaving with nothing more than the pain of injury. The howling was receding to a rustle. Behind her eyelids, a shadow shifted.

Then the voice spoke again. “If your journey has been to the surface, then here you stand.”

Vijaya felt herself sag against her shield, tears burning trails down her tattooed cheeks. Even with her eyes closed, she knew it to be true. Muffled beneath the softness, she could not hear the song of the Stone. She was adrift, alone, stripped of her house and her claim to the Memories. She was no one.

She was alive.

She waited, if only to stop shaking, to gather her breath and square the set of her shoulders. The wind, then, it was, whispering through the tears in her armor, through her bloodstained black hair, filling her chest with air. And the sun, battering against her shield and her skin, though it gentled now, slowly, the pain ebbing into an odd, yet frightening discomfort. She could hear the stranger’s breath beside her, the strange sounds as she moved. She had not left.

Blinking away the last of her tears, Vijaya lowered her shield, opening her eyes in inches, even as she flinched from the stinging light.

First, her eyes. They were the color of molten gold, liquid fire- striking enough to startle her. Tendrils of fine black hair framed her face- a human, wheat-brown skin drenched in- light. In light. There was green- an unsettling, poisoned green that enveloped them both- and sounds of things larger than deep stalkers, many more legs scuttling through the strange earth.

Vijaya held her steady gaze, mooring herself to it.

“Well, well.” The stranger’s lips curved into a smile. “What have we here?”

*

The fire simmered lower, and a cold gust of wind made her hair stand on end. How she had once thought this place too warm was beyond her.

Vijaya made her way across camp, sparing a nod at Sten, who had taken the night’s watch. The weather was- clear. Her boots clung to the earth- dirt, gravel, grass.

Morrigan sat by the small fire she’d gathered outside of her own tent, twirling the ends of her hair in concentration, scouring the weathered pages of her mother’s grimoire. When her eyes landed on Vijaya, she chuckled, snapping the book shut. “Come to grace me with your presence?” Her teasing glance felt like silk, like flowers she did not yet quite know the name of. Roses, lilies, daisies.

“How could I not?” Vijaya stepped into the tent, admiring how the soft firelight played across Morrigan’s skin. “I am not so cruel to leave you waiting all night.”

Morrigan tutted, setting her staff aside to bury herself into her bedroll. “I have scorned lovers for far less.”

Vijaya snorted, removing her remaining pauldron. “That is me, yes. Softened by a life of indulgence.”

She lay down beside Morrigan, wrapping her broad arms around her. Vijaya let Morrigan unpin her braid, black curls falling to her waist, roughened by the road, but warm, smooth enough for Morrigan to run her fingers through with a satisfied hum.

“I was trying to tell the stars apart.” Vijaya said, pressing her lips to Morrigan’s cheek. “What do you call them- constellations? Leliana has tales for each of them.”

“I see.” Morrigan murmured, amused. “And how fares your endeavor?”

“Badly.” Vijaya admitted, for once. “They make my eyes water."

Morrigan laughed, tossing her leg over Vijaya’s waist. “Had quite enough of the sky now, have you?”

There was war beyond this tent, darkspawn pressing in at the edge of the forest. She was still of Orzammar. She knew that a blight was slow ruin, an endless apocalypse, a battle with no victors.

Vijaya kissed her anyway, slow and deep, one hand securing her hip, the other carding through her hair, pulling her closer. “I have much else to marvel at.”

[thebibliomancer]

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 19

Tides of the Dark Crystal because I want to know if they’ll be able to save a tree! I’m arboreally invested!

Last times on book: Amri and co are on a quest to unite all the Gelfling clans against the Skeksis. They’ve managed with the Sifa and they’re trying with the Dousan at the Wellspring gathering place now. Periss, their guide to the Wellspring, did a hostage situation to get the team educated about the plight of dying giant trees in the area. Amri, Naia, and Tavra dove down down down to the bottom of the lake where the tree once was and found a spark of life. But it needs the Dousan to heal and it’s going to be hard to get them to the bottom of the lake. They’ve only got one Naia to go around.

Chapter 19

Team Naia and the Dousan heal the tree, more plot arrives in a silver bound scroll

Okay. So the solution to how to get all the Dousan underwater is to not do that. Its just not feasible. Amri suggests getting the Dousan to the cave since the water from the Wellspring is going to the cave too and Naia says it’ll have to be good enough.

Their lips met, and she filled his lungs with air, more warmly than before, then thrust him away. He held the feeling in his heart, letting it buoy him toward the surface so far above.

Is giving someone oxygen underwater a ship tease? Because it seems to be leaning that way.

Amri bobs to the surface and is pulled out of the water by good ol’ Periss. The Dousan are all still meditating as their camp is torn to pieces by the wind. Can’t say they’re not determined.

The Grottan guy tells Periss (and Erimon who is still hanging around) that the tree is still alive, just, and that it needs the Dousan’s song for Naia to heal it.

Periss turned on Erimon, eyes wide with hope.

“Our people meditate, send thoughts and dreams into the universe, trusting Thra to send providence. But they won’t take action -- won’t even lift a finger to save the gifts Thra has already provided! If they won’t, then I will.”

Periss runs off to put the nearest Dousan. To put them in a headlock and drag them to the cave, presumably.

“You say you saw it? The tree truly lives?”

“And can save us yet, if you’ll believe in it!”

Like the living spot of the tree in all the dead, a spark of light flickered in Erimon’s countenance. Like a wall breaking, like he was waking from a dream that he had been dreaming too long.

Maybe if the tree had sent dreams to the rest of the Dousan, this would have gotten resolved faster. I do wonder why it only sent dream nightmares to Periss.

Anyway, Erimon pulls a horn from his belt and just holds it up to the wind, which makes me laugh a little at the effort saving a desert storm can provide. The blaaaaat, presumably, of the horn rouses the Dousan and Erimon tells them to get themselves to the cave.

When Erimon, Periss, and Amri get to the cave, Erimon jams the horn into a crevice so it’ll keep blowing and guide the Dousan there.

Inside, Kylan has climbed into a little nook that I guess has great acoustics and is still playing his firca. Amri tells Erimon and Periss to get to singing without waiting for the rest of the Dousan.

A neat touch is that Dousan singing is a sort of humming that reminds Amri a lot of the Mystics but also Aughra’s chant and the song of Thra. Given who the Dousan based their culture on, it makes a lot of sense. And is probably the best possible singing for this situation.

Amri asks Onica how they’ll know this is all working and she says “If it works, the tree will rise and break the storm wall,” Onica said. “And if doesn’t, we may be the only ones that survive this trial.”

No pressure. Except all the pressure. Geez, the weather is pissed off.

Some more Dousan start finding their way into the cave, caked in sand, and confused how things have gotten so bad and whether buried in sand forever is the answer Thra is giving them.

Even entering the cave and seeing Periss and Erimon singing to Kylan’s playing the Dousan just kind of. Silently watch. They need a bit of a nudge.

“Thra has already given you an answer. To the darkening, to the Skeksis, to all the corruption that seeps into our world. Believe in the way Thra has shown us all along, even if it seems hopeless. In the tree. In the Gelfling. In each other!”

Amri held out his hands as the storm threw itself against the mountain, a monster knocking on the door. To his surprise, a Dousan stepped forward and took his hand.

“I will believe,” she said.

Another followed her. Amri didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

I would also like to see this portrayed in puppets. It wouldn’t be as technically impressive as the dive into the forever deep spring but it would make me feel feelings.

The Dousan join hands and hum sing so loudly it drones out the storm.

Amri sees a dreamfast, presumably with all the present Dousan or with the tree?, of the tree in its prime and the Dousan coming and going from the oasis.

He thinks he hears Naia’s voice so looks outside the cave where the darkness has lifted.

Amri stepped outside of the cave and gasped.

Still growing, at an impossible and rapid speed, a tree was unfurling from within the lake. Its spiraled shoot jetted into the sky, thick boughs with huge succulent fronds blooming like a storm of another kind.

The storm wall broke as the tree pierced it, scattering the lightning and wind. The clouds parted in a ripple, dissipating. Behind the black of the storm, the sky was light with morning.

HEYYYY wow. They kept saying that the tree could stop the storm but I thought it was like. Magic. Not that the tree would grow so big that it would explode the storm.

These Great Trees are. Pretty great.

In the center of the still-chanting Dousan, the same rainbow light appears and dream-etches the story of the Sifa and now the Dousan joining the resistance.

Very helpful to have a ‘quest completed’ indicator. And very cool.

Amri also sees a vision in the fire of Maudra Ethri at Cera-Na receiving a scroll tied with silver twine.

Huh. Plot hook?

And similar to the dream Naia had of her mother receiving a scroll in the swamp.

Huuuuh. Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuh.

Speaking of Naia...

The tree’s bark was made of woody, layered diamonds like the scales of a lizard, pointing upward to capture what meager rain fell in the desert. Cradled in one of the shelves made of the bark, resting in a nest of lake weeds, was the Drenchen girl. Amri splashed through the water and climbed up the tree to where she lay.

“Oof,” she groaned when he reached her.

“You did it. Naia, you did it.”

She gave an exhausted chuckle. “It wasn’t me. When I was down there, I could hear you. Through the water and the river. I heard Kylan’s firca. I heard the Dousan singing the song of life.” She looked at the palms of her hands. “I became one with the tree, in that moment. I felt as if my heart had grown wings. And then this miracle...”

Together, they looked up through the morning suns as they came through the tree’s fronds, sparkling with the water that still dripped in pristine rain from so high above. Naia smiled and put her hand against the tree’s bark.

“Oszah-Staba,” she said. “The Wellspring Tree. Its tears have always filled the lake. But now they can be tears of joy instead of loneliness.”

WOO!

I hope they all feel very accomplished! That’s two whole clans convinced and a tree saved.

Uh, so why is there still 80 some pages left. Are there more tides?

Despite stopping the storm, it managed to destroy pretty much the entire Dousan camp first. The Crystal Skimmers at least dig themselves out of the sand.

Erimon tries to apologize to Periss but Periss just tells him that his sand skiff (the one that Periss stole?) will be a good apology.

Everyone is basically feeling good and accomplished right now, despite 80 some pages left.

Even Tavra spoke kindly into his ear.

“You did very well, Shadowling,” she said.

“And how are you, spiderling?” he replied.

“Tired.”

In the past, her short answers had always seemed aloof, as if she didn’t want to speak to him any more than she had to. But this time he heard something else. Not sadness, not reluctance; just exactly what she’d said. Tiredness.

With a start, he realized maybe this was just the way she was: not cold, but reserved.

Frens.

Also, I have to imagine that being the middlest child had a lot to do with it. Brea and Seladon are a lot more than Tavra is. Just a lot more. And they seem to constantly put her in the middle of it. Where she has to be very diplomatic.

Amri asks if there’s anything he can do for Tavra but she says nothing more than he already has.

Aw.

Maudra Seethi’s Crystal Skimmer arrives in rough shape, deck in ruins and Skimmer covered in wounds from the storm. But there’s no Maudra Seethi aboard.

Wait, that’s it! That’s what’s missing! Surely I get to meet Maudra Seethi in this book where half the plot has been the Dousan! I’ve met all the other Maudra!

Sandmaster Rek’yr is aboard. Hi show character, Rek’yr!

He tells the protagonists that Seethi’s Skimmer was caught by the storm wall on the way to the Wellspring and had to back off hoping for it to break. But while they waited a message came from Ha’rar and Maudra Seethi had to leave immediately.

Rek’yr coughed again and groaned, producing a scroll tied with a piece of silver twine. He passed it to Erimon as proof. Amri waited while he read it, though with a horrible dread, he felt he knew what words would come from the sandmaster’s mouth next.

“The maudra have been summoned to Ha’rar by Princess Seladon,” he said. “All-Maudra Mayrin is dead.”

Oh nerts.

Huh. Three books only takes us up to the equivalent of episode 5 or 6?

Dang, Naia’s team is good at squeezing in a lot of plot in a short amount of time.