#a really big drabble

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 17 prompt : hayride

rated: T | cw: none | tags: Steve Harrington owns a farm, Eddie Munson is a clown, fluff

🤡🤡🤡🤡

Steve is on the last leg of the days final hay ride rout. It’s been another weekend of setting up and making sure all the stalls are covered with their seasonal workers, checking in with health and safety and ensuring the entertainers got the newest version of the final Halloween themed weekend schedule, before everything shifts to the Christmas holiday themes.

But it went off without a hitch, another solid season overall.

The farm had been his passion project. Built thanks to his Grandad’s sudden death and meticulous stipulations that all his money go to his only grandson. Freeing Steve completely from under his father’s thumb and allowing him breathing space to finally do something he enjoyed. Even if he is using the business degree his Dad bullied him into, it’s definitely not the route his father wanted for his life.

But Steve loves it. Every moment. Working outside, with people he trusts, like Robin who runs the creative side, marketing a decorating and generally making the place look amazing. Being an honest to god farmer, much to his mother’s chagrin gives him a real sense of purpose and pride, every pumpkin he manages to grow is like a pat on the back.

And, privately, Steve gets to give kids the kind of memories that he could only dream of when he was younger. And that’s worth more than anything.

That last thing is part of the reason why he so often spends the last couple hours of opening running the hay ride. He gets to hear the families and kids enjoy their time together, react to the view and the wooden characters Robin painted, huddle into their coats and snuggle in close. It’s magic. Steve loves it. So he drives the tractor as often as he can.

It’s great. He loves his life, he really does. But, unfortunately, it can’t all be perfect. This season in particular has had one little problem. One bit of danger.

The danger which just so happens to be the first thing he sees as he rounds the last bend of the hay ride. Eddie. Their newest entertainment hire and the thorn in Steve’s side.

He’s way too hot for Steve to be any kind of normal around him.

A honest to god clown. With tricks and magic and jokes and songs. With his little autumn themed outfit and matching makeup. Steve’s heard nothing but good things about him, a shoe in to be rehired every season going forward. The crowds can’t get enough of the guy.

Which is all great. If Steve didn’t have a disgustingly huge crush on him.

Even dressed fully in his clown paint and outfit he’s hot.

It really shouldn’t be hot.

But it is.

And Steve can’t even think about what he looks like in his normal clothes because he could honestly start to get hard thinking about it. The guy is insane.

Not to mention one of the kindest sweetest people ever. To everyone, but it seems to Steve especially. He can’t count the amount of times Eddie’s made him blush just from being so sweet or a little flirty or a little tease.

So really, it’s been hell, the whole season, because I Steve can’t work out a way of asking the guy out that doesn’t make him come off as some creepy boss.

And now Eddie’s there, waiting for Steve at the end of the hay ride. And Steve has no damn clue why.

Steve parks and opens the gate for people to file out. Waving and thanking them for coming, hoping to see them soon.

He stalls until everyone is gone, until the section of farm is empty except the two of them.

Steve bites his lip, jumping up to grab the tractor keys so he can have another moment not looking at Eddie.

Eventually though, he turns, smiles. ‘You good man?’ He asks.

Eddie nods. Looking fidgety. He’s still in his clown makeup but his costume’s been replaced with black jeans and a padded flannel.

Steve crosses his arms and tries not to think about that way the denim stretches over his thighs.

Eddie takes a deep breath. ‘I know you’re my boss and all. But, well, my last shift just finished and I would love if you extended my contract, seriously, but. I’d honestly kick myself if I didn’t at least try.’ Eddie says in a rush.

Steve scrunches his eyebrows.

Eddie revels a bouquet of balloon flowers from behind his back, shy through the face paint, biting his red lip.

Steve is lost for words, mouth opening and closing dumbly.

This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.

‘This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.’ He says, dumbfounded.

Eddie smiles, his whole face lighting up. ‘Steve Harrington, will you please go on a date with me?’ He asks.

Steve laughs, takes the flowers and sniffs them just to hear Eddie’s giggle. ‘Yeah.’ He whispers. ‘I’d really like that.’

🤡🤡🤡🤡

Tag list: @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @thecatkingsthrone @marvel-ous-m

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu Drabble - Shopping

I am back at it again because I had ideas. (don't worry friend @spotaus things are being planned and I got many many ideas :3 but before those happen stuff needs to be established and put in place!)

I was debating between like four different drabble ideas but settled on this one. Something calming for a bit :)

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

as always. No editing and no beta.

*-------------------*

Dust shoots Killer another glare as he holds Nightmare clsoer "I mean it Killer. get out of my blindspot. It is getting annoying."

Nightmare looks from Dust to Killer and sees the large grin on Killer's face as he skips after Dust and Nightmare "Nah. I think it is good i am here because it is your blindspot!"

Dust grumbles as he holds Nightmare clsoer. Nightmare just pushes his skull under Dust's chin as he listens to the two bicker. Dust gives him a quick nuzzle before shooting Killer another glare "Why are you even here?" Killer still has a large grin on his face "I am backup!"

Dust groans "I am getting Nightmare clothes."

Killer nods as he follows them "backup!"

Dust huffs before looking back at Nightmare. Nightmare sees the glare disappear from his face as Dust lets out a sigh before smiling at Nightmare "makes you start to wonder who helped who out of getting stuck in a wall."

Killer gasps loudly "That only happened a few times!"

Ngihtmare grins and laughs as he leans fully against Dust again. He likes being held by Dust and Dust must like it too because he always holds him.

Nightmare figured it was because his spine is fragile and walking for too long starts to bother him but Dust still just holds him. always. Maybe he also likes being close like this?

Thoguht Nightmare isn't sure what Dust gets out of it but he must really like something abut the close contact.

They walk past another few people who look at them. Nightmare shoots a glance as Dust and Killer continue to bicker. They seem to shoot Dust and him worried looks but chuckle once they realise that Dust and Killer are just doing their way of bonding.

Nightmare always thought the flirting between those two was weird but then again he thought most things dating was weird. Maybe because he was still a child in his soul...

Not that it matters.

Nightmare shoots a glance and spots Killer grinning widely as his soul is clearly in soulshape and looks stable. Dust may have an annoyed look on his face but he has a tiny smile on his face.

Nightmare hides his face in Dust's sweater but he can't hide the purr. He wants them to be happy. They are happy even with him near.

Dust notices of course nad gives him another nuzzle "comfy? Spine okay?"

Nightmare nods "Yeah."

Dust hums to signal he heard him but still rubs his back.

They finally stop near one of the smaller houses which is the clothing shop for this town.

Dust tilts his skull as Killer snorts "oh that is adorable. ready to dress Nightmare as a tiny old man?" he grins

Dust shoots Killer a glare "It isn't that bad..." then he looks at the store "just... a bit old fashioned..." he looks at him "That okay?"

Nightmare nods before shrugging "I don't get why i need new things..."

Dust sighs. Killer leans on Dust's other shoulder and shoots him a wink "Because you are still wearing Dust's things. and quite honestly. Dusty does not have a large enough wardrobe to dress both of you."

Nightmare frowns as he pushes clsoer to Dust. He doesn't mind wearing stuff them them. It are things that are well worn and soft and smell of them and old laundry detergent.

Dust nuzzles his skull "It will be nice. You can check what you like and what feels nice and is comfortable."

Nightmare frowns "it is expensive." which is another reason why he doesn't want to get anything.

Dust frowns and Killer quickly answers "That is a worry for us. And Dusty said it is fine so it is fine." he grins.

Dust nods "made some money. more than enough to get you some things."

Nightmare wants to disagree more but Dust walks into the store.

The inside isn't like he thought it would be. there is actually quite a number of nice looking things and looks more modern than you would think from the outside.

DUst makes a pleased sound before smiling smugly "Seems like they were just showing off the knitwear because it is autumn." he shoots Killer a look "Almost as if i did my research and knew it would be okay here." and he walks further into the store.

Killer sputters before following them "I know that Dusty! You always do that! I was just joking around!" he pouts but doesn't offer anything. Really just a shadow. It reminds Nightmare a bit about how it was before. Killer beign his right hand and always by his side to help and protect him. It still feels different now and even when thinking back to those memories they feel different.

Killer spots him looking at him and grins before wriggling his phalanges in a tiny wave at him. Nightmare huffs and pushes back closer to Dust.

Dust is looking through some clothes on the hanger "Stop bothering Nightmare." he pulls something off and looks it over critically. he holds it up for him to inspect and Nightmare just shrugs.

Killer pouts as he crosses his arms "Just having fun. And tiny boss is fine with it!" he grins at him "Right nighty?"

Nightmare shrugs. he doens't mind. it is nice.

Dust rolls his eye lights and doesn't look at Killer "Even if he is fine with is safe it for later. first buying clothes. Then you can tire him out."

Nightmare huffs and grumbles. he doesn't need tiring out. he is perfectly fine. Dust holds up another sweater and he shrugs again.

"Oh hello there dears! Can you find it all?"

Killer nad Dust turn and Nightmare feels Dust freeze for a moment. Yeah not a surprise because the woman looks a lot like Toriel. But Nightmare doubts it is the her of this universe. The closer he looks the more this woman seems like a sheep monster.

Killer and Dust must see it too as Killer grins "Pretty much! but we got it!"

Dust shoots him a look "Killer knock it off." he looks at the lady "We are looking for stuff for the little guy."

The lady smiles sweetly "Oh! You two must be two of Sans- I am sorry, Crop's friends!" she looks them over and her gaze lingers on Dust for a moment before settling on Nightmare. Nightmare can't stop the instinct of holding on tighter to Dust. He doesn't like having stranger's gazes on him.

The smiles sweetly "I can see the resemblance! You must be very proud of such a young handsome little boy!"

Dust looks to the side and shrugs but his hold on him tightens. Killer snorts, which is fair as they aren't actually related. Maybe she just sees the resemblance before Nightmare now looks much more like a tiny swap sans, as that was the original form his mother used to craft their bodies. And Dust is the one of the four that still resemblance who he used to be.

At elast Nightmare assumes that is why people think they see a resemblance. That or they are just racists and think all skeletons look alike.

the woman smiles "I am sure there is something fitting for him. Do you need any help?"

Killer's laugh turns cold as he smiles widely "No thanks! We got this!"

Dust rolls his eye lights and nudges him in the side "Stop it." he looks back to the lady "I was wodnering what the... organisation was. I wanted to look at stuff his size..." and he looks at the things he had been looking at with a glare.

The sheep monster looks a bit paler after Killer's interaction but smiles sweetly at Dust. "It is a bit of a mixmatch. Of all the stuff that is handmade it only has a few of each size. you will have to guestimate those. The imported clothes are by the walls, those have more standard sizing."

Dust nods "I see." and he starts walking towards the side first to check the sizing.

Killer grins as he leans close and whispers "Holding a babybones does wonders for making you look approachable"

Dust shoots him a glare and hisses "One word and I will put you in a wall myself." and he stomps over towards the clothes.

Nightmare still doens't understand why Killer thinks that kinda flirting is efficient but what does he know.

Dust is clearly unimpressed with the clothing offered with the more standard design and fabric. but they use it to figure out which size he is before moving towards the handmade stuff.

DUst and Nightmare check what is nice and soft as Killer shadows them. Staying nearby and pretty much glaring at anyone who as much as glances in their direction.

They end up settling for two big sweaters and some sweats. They wait by the cash register as Dust has picked him up again.

The nice woman smiles at them "That will be 140!" she smiles.

Killer winces at the price and Nightmare pushes closer to Dust "I don't need two." wool sweaters are expensive...

Dust shrugs as he looks at Killer "Be usefull and hold him for a moment." and Ngihtamre feels hismelf be handed over to Killer. Dust takes out some cash from his inventory and counts quickly before putting most of the stash he had on the counter "That should be enough." he stashes whatever is left.

The lady counts it and smiles as she puts it away. She packs it in a bag and holds it out to Dust "Thank you for shopping! And Can I just say it is lovely to see such a devoted father."

Dust shrugs and mutters a thanks before shooting Killer a warning look.

Killer grins as he nuzzles Nightmare "How are you this huggable tiny boss?"

Nightmare shrugs but holds unto Killer. Killer is also nice to be held by.

They leave the store together and walk back towards the parking lot. Something about meeting up again to go back to Crop's farm. Nightmare isn't really sure. He is already getting tired again adn he mumbles unhappily.

Killer purrs and coos "It is okay tiny boss. babybones need their sleep and rest after all."

Dust nods "Shopping is always busy." he shoots Killer a glare "Why is why i didn't want you to get him tired or overwhelmed."

Killer groans "Yeah yeah you were right. you are always right. can i go back to nuzzlign the baby now?"

Dust looks considerate before nodding "You may."

Killer grins and the nuzzles resume and Nightmare wants to pout and push him off but it is so nice and he can feel himself start to relax as he starts to purr again.

He likes it when his family holds him.

*-------------------*

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[lxvi-gloria]

Drabble Prompt: Post-canon Levi, struggling with chronic pain and mourning his dead loved ones, being visited by his still alive loved ones

Anon, you knew how to talk pretty to me <3

hihi requests are still open btw

I feel like I gotta put a disclaimer or something lmao. So, the length of my drabble requests is usually something between 100-400 words. This request is just an incredibly unexpected exception. it just happened to fit into this idea I already had been thinking of, which was how the remaining 104th would ask Levi to be part of important events in their lives because well, they like the dude lmao, so expect that sort of one-shot soon. Additionally, since I kept reminding myself that this was supposed to be a drabble, I might have glossed over the chronic pain and mourning bits so I'm sorry about that ;;

that being said, 2.4k words of Levi and Gabi be upon ye <3

Now on Ao3!

The angry hissing of the kettle makes him flinch. It brings a loud ringing to his right ear. Instinctively, he places his right hand over it, and gives his ear a couple of gentle taps; it's more of a grounding gesture, a distraction from the buzzing. He usually keeps watch over the kettle, so that he can lower the heat just right before it gets a chance to scream at him. 

He realises then that he must have spaced out while waiting. It’s alright, he thinks. It’s been like that a lot, recently. He’s been like that. Lost in thought-- lost in time, if he allowed himself to be precise. The last days, weeks even, as the temperatures started to drop, blended into each other. There’s a little calendar on his bedside table, it had been a birthday gift from Armin – or had that been Mikasa’s? He isn’t sure, he had received an absurd number of presents from the kids last year, it had been hard to keep track of who gave him what and now the fact escaped him. Turning the pages of the little calendar, with its delicate botanical illustrations on each day, quickly became part of his morning routine, and so he was sure that time was passing at all. The stillness of the routine, he guesses, made him like this.

His vision blurs momentarily while he scoops the tea leaves into the teapot. He squints, trying to will his good eye to focus, but all he gets in return is a throb in his right eye. After putting the tea canister away, he presses the inner sides of his wrists to both eyes, placing just enough pressure to relieve the discomfort. When he opens his eyes again, he is pleased to find he can read the small print on the canister an arm’s length away. 

There’s a loud slam coming from the front of the house, followed by footsteps coming further into the house.

He quickly recognizes the heavy stomping as Gabi’s gait. She’s always been so loud.

Gabi crosses the arch into the small kitchen and dining area. 

“Don’t slam my doors,” he says as a greeting, slowly turning his head to his left side, trying to catch a glimpse of her in his periphery.

“Aye, aye,” the kid waves her hand, shoots him a teasing grin, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Levi hums in response but doesn’t say anything else. He busies himself with placing everything they need for their morning tea and coffee on a metal tray on the counter, which Gabi takes from him as soon as it’s ready and sets it on the table.

He grabs his cane from where he had hooked it on one of the kitchen drawers. He has been leaning against the counter, his right leg supporting most of his weight all this time. He braces himself for the sharp pain that will surely surge from his bad knee, through his left hip and up his spine. Cold mornings like this one and being still in one place for long will do that to him. It’s not so bad. It could be worse.

It takes 4 steps to get from the stove to his chair, which Gabi has already pulled out for him. It sits at an angle that allows him to easily slide down on it and rest his right elbow on top of the table, leaning back and against his good side.

“I have something that will cheer you up,” she holds a couple of envelopes in her hand and waves them at him, “You’ve got mail!”

He nods at her in acknowledgement but does not take his attention away from preparing his first batch of tea of the day. There’s a ritual to it, it almost feels like, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. Not when the ringing in his ear is still there, the building pressure in the upper back part of his eyeballs, and the cold air seeping into his bones through his thick jumper. Oh, how he needs a good cup of tea right now.

While Levi waits for it to steep, he grabs the papers that she had shoved in his face, squints his eyes at the first envelope and finds that he is unable to make out much of the handwriting. He brings it closer to his face, squints harder, steals a quick glance across the table and hopes Gabi isn’t paying him any mind, too preoccupied with choosing from the bag of pastries she brought with her. It is with an impassive expression that he hands the stack of envelopes back. 

“Read it for me.” A beat and then he adds, a little reluctant: “Please.”

He knows Gabi prefers coffee in the mornings, and black tea in the evenings, so he makes sure to have a fresh brew of the former whenever he knows she’s coming over; so, with shaky hands, Levi gets to prepare her cup of coffee. While he enjoys the aroma of it, he remains faithful to tea; at first, he thought he didn’t like it because he had butchered his first attempts at brewing it. But even after Onyankopon had taught him how to do it properly and he had enjoyed his cup, it didn’t bring the same comfort as tea. It just never hit the spot.

She shoots him a mischievous grin, “Oh, you sure? What if I read something personal, hm?” 

Levi just shakes his head, scoffing at the idea of Gabi finding his junk mail fascinating.

“Is this how I find out you have a secret lover you’re exchanging raunchy love letters with?” Gabi teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He lets out a tired sigh and rolls his eyes, “just wanna be done with it, ” he stirs the milk into Gabi’s coffee, which now has turned into a cup of milk with coffee. “We have a lot to prepare for tonight.”

She clicks her tongue at him, but still rips the first envelope open, “Mr. Levi, your reading won’t improve if you keep doing that,” she jokingly scolds him.

Although Levi mentally recognises handing her and Falco stuff he couldn’t be bothered reading before, that’s not the case this time. He’ll let her think that for now, though, because he doesn’t want to mention the pressure building in the back of his bad eye, it’s not important and she, a kid, doesn’t need to know his newly found ailment of the week. He can see just fine around him right now. He can see Gabi’s big eyes and playful smile at the other side of the table, and that’s good enough; smaller details, he doesn’t feel he can do them, not without making himself go dizzy with a migraine.

Levi slides the cup of coffee to her and is pleased with himself when she approves of the colour of her drink.

“It’s from Armin,” she announces as she scans the letter. 

From this angle, the soft morning light illuminating her face and thanks to his faulty vision, Gabi’s image stirs his memory. His heart faintly constricts as he is reminded of the many times Hange read their research reports to him during breakfast in the mess hall before presenting them to Erwin. Levi always wondered how they could read so fast, sometimes he even doubted they were actually reading at all, their words barely being able to catch up with her eyes; he never asked about it, maybe reading came easy to them as numbers did to him.

A high-pitched squeal from Gabi startles him, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Oh… ohh, Mr. Levi,” she starts, her smile widening by the second “This is good news!”

Gabi makes a show of clearing her throat and then starts reading “Dear Captain, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health.” 

Levi can’t help but let a sardonic huff at the irony of the greetings but doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. He has written only a handful of personal letters throughout his life, and by now he knows it’s just something you’re supposed to say because jumping straight to the point isn’t acceptable, or so that’s what he had been told. 

Gabi continues reading Armin’s words to him. For the most part, it’s a standard letter coming from him: he asks Levi how he’s dealing with the changing of the seasons, how Gabi and Falco are faring, if business at the tea shop has been good, if there’s anything Levi needs that he can’t get in town so that Armin or the others can get it for him. He tells him a little about the country he’s writing from, he even includes a photograph. Then, after the expected pleasantries, Gabi can barely hold her excitement and starts reading faster, trying so hard not to trip over her words.

“If I’m being sincere, we would prefer to ask you in person,” Gabi stops for a second to look up at him from the paper, gauging for a reaction and finding nothing, she continues. 

Armin apologises for not being able to visit him before the holidays, Annie included, and so it is implied that he won’t be attending tonight’s reunion. 

Sometime during the last five years, the Alliance brats had decided to make showing up at Levi’s doorstep together once a year a sort of custom; the first time it happened was during an early winter, a blizzard had stopped them from leaving Levi’s until the next morning. It had been a really nice evening despite the awful weather, Levi remembers, after everyone pitched in one way or another, they all shared a simple but hearty meal together. It was Connie who jokingly said they should do it every year. The following year, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco joined them. 

This year would be their fourth, and the first someone wouldn’t make it. That fact sits heavily in Levi’s chest, stealing the spotlight from his throbbing eye.

“...Annie and I have decided to get married. The both of us would like you to officiate our ceremony!” unable to contain her excitement, she tears her eyes away from the paper and looks at Levi. “Huh?! This is good news! What’s with the constipated face?!”

That doesn’t sound right. It figures that Annie and Armin would be the first to marry; in a way, he is happy for them, they clearly care for each other. No, that part is easy to understand. Their union is logical to anyone who knows the couple. What Levi can’t figure out is why they are asking him such a thing.

He clears his throat, assumes it’s been 3 minutes and his tea is ready to be poured and so he distracts himself with that.

When he doesn’t answer Gabi, she picks up where she left off. 

He isn’t… well, he isn’t that close to either of them. He’s sure Annie must have other relatives that could step in his stead. Maybe a brother, a cousin. Even Jean or Reiner would be better options than Levi. He isn’t good with words or people like they are, he couldn’t possibly give them a speech about something foreign to him as it is that kind of love, that’s what people expect, right? His title of Captain is obsolete in this new world, so it can’t be that either. Hell, he has never been to a fucking wedding. 

Just… why him?

As expected, Armin doesn’t really go into the details of their choice but does let Levi know they do not expect a fast answer and that they do not want him to feel pressured to accept it, despite how much it would mean to them if he did. Armin asks if there’s anything in particular that he would like for his birthday, as it is a month away, and closes the letter by saying he looks forward to seeing him and everyone then.

When the letter is closed and put back into its envelope, silence falls around them. For a moment the only sound that can be heard is the clinking of tableware as Levi places the teacup back on its saucer.

It bothers him, that he knows he will be letting Armin down by refusing something that any other well-adapted person would consider an honour. But the thought of embarrassing him and himself, because he gave an awkward, most likely insensitive, speech, mortifies him. No, he can’t put them and their guests through that. He will find a way to make it up to the couple, maybe he can… he doesn’t know yet, but he will come up with something.

As he finishes his first cup, Levi realises that at some point while he was lost in thought, the ringing in his ear has subsided and now it’s back to that muffled, cotton-in-ear sensation he’s used to and he doesn’t feel his eyeball pulsating anymore. Glancing at Gabi, he notices she is trying really hard not to say something, her brow furrowed as she takes a sip of her own drink, followed by a big bite of her pastry. Flakes stick to the corner of her mouth and for once it doesn’t disgust him. Instead, it makes his lips twitch as if going into a smile.

“I can help you... if you want,” she says eventually, sounding uncharacteristically careful and small of her.

Levi quirks an eyebrow “Help? with what?” 

She shrugs, “How to… tell them you don’t want to,” she avoids looking at him for the first time, finding the flakes on her plate more interesting. She shrugs again and tilts her head to the side, a thin line of a smile appearing on her face. “...or prepare for the ceremony.”

Not unlike many times before, Gabi’s words render him speechless, if only for a moment. He spares his tea a glance and he thinks: it’s bold of her to be so upfront about offering her help to him, and had it been any other morning, one where he couldn’t think past the constant ache in his body, he would’ve chewed her head off for simply trying to help him because he himself doesn’t know how to accept that kindness.

This kid is trying her best and he can’t help but feel somewhat proud of that.

“You have shit on your face. Here,” he points to where the flakes would sit on his own face and picks his refilled teacup back up.

Gabi quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting most of the flakes off. Levi gives her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally concedes and tries to ignore the little happy dance she does in her seat.

This time, when the amber liquid touches his lips, it’s remarkably sweeter than before.

[aetherdecember]

Look, I love BBC Merlin and how they told the lore, but I’m a sucker for the relationship between Arthur and Mordred in the mythology. Specifically, I love how Mary Stewart (author of The Arthurian Saga**) and Nancy Springer (author of I Am Mordred**) wrote about the father/son relationship between them. So naturally, my brain has been conjuring up how I can include that in my Flipping the Coin au.

Since the main premise is Merlin died/Arthur lives, and now Arthur is the one waiting for Merlin to come back, things would stay consistent with canon up to the last episode (when Merlin flips the coin of their destiny and sacrifices himself so Arthur can live and thus stop Camlann from happening altogether). Which is where this idea will start:

Gwen is barren. She and Arthur never have kids. Eventually, everyone Arthur knows and loves dies. He can’t rule Camelot forever, and after Gwen’s death, he no longer wants to, so he fakes his death and wanders off figure out why he’s still here. He never gets an answer for that. Arthur spends the next millennium waiting. He keeps living. He meets people, experiences things he’d never experienced before, and learns things he’d never dreamed of learning. He can’t stay anywhere long, or else suspicions will rise, but he gets to see the world change, how technology advances, and witness humans continuing to be humans. When war breaks out, he joins the battle. It’s familiar. The rush of adrenaline is the same whether he’s wielding a sword or a gun. Only, he can’t see the enemy’s face anymore.

Peace comes again. At some point, he sleeps with a woman, and she happens to become pregnant. Bisexual disaster that he is, he’s had all sorts of partners from both sexes, but has never had this happen, even before the advent of reliable birth control. Later, he’ll learn her name is Morgause. She doesn’t look like the Morgause he knew before, nor does she act like her, but her name haunts him. After the baby is born, she gives him to Arthur, says she has no intentions of being a mother, and leaves. The last thing she had said to him was the baby’s name.

Mordred.

That night, Arthur holds Mordred and weeps.

There is irony in his son being named Mordred. First, in that the legends surrounding him, Merlin, Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, and all of it, had long ago decided Mordred was his son. And two, in a retelling of that legend, it had aptly phrased what he sensed was happening now. Granted, he isn’t a sorcerer, he doesn’t have magic, so he can’t support his feeling with anything other than he’d been around a long time and knew to his very core that it was true. Mordred’s birth is a signal of the beginning of the end.

Fatherhood brings him a new sense of purpose. Gone are the days of loneliness and drudgery. Every day with Mordred brings a new light into his life. Each smile is a miracle. Seeing Mordred experience things for the first time brings a new appreciation. Being there to watch him grow makes time fly like it never has before. But Arthur is afraid. He doesn’t want to be his father. He doesn’t know how to be a father, or what the right way to do it is. In all the years he’s been on the Earth, he’s never known a man who could concretely say, “This is the way to raise a son,” and actually reap the fruits of their efforts. Too frequently, he’d seen sons grow outside of the visions their fathers molded for them and receive only disappointment and disdain in return. So he was afraid, because he too had been that son.

*cue a series of fluffy father/son one shots of Arthur raising Mordred until Merlin comes back, takes one look, and is is like WTF????? No, I won’t have Mordred for a step son >:(*

**Mary Stewart and Nancy Springer have several other works, not just the stories I mentioned. The ones mentioned are the ones I’m pulling inspiration from ^^

Additional notes below the break:

Guinevere’s barrenness is not a headcanon I typically subscribe to for BBC Merlin. My headcanon is that after Arthur’s death, Gwen gives birth, and their child eventually succeeds her as ruler.

I’ve always seen Mordred’s appearance as the harbinger of Arthur’s downfall. Thus, the reason for the plot bunnies in my brain going crazy with this idea of how I could bring him in, still remain mostly canon compliant with BBC Merlin, and build off some of my favorite parts of the lore. (Mandatory disclaimer: for BBC Merlin, I don’t headcanon Mordred as Arthur’s son. But for the mythology, I do wholeheartedly support that canon.)

Arthur’s choice to participate and live once Camelot is gone is a decision to contrast my headcanon of how Merlin handled it. I don’t think Merlin thrived. I think he stayed busy, and tried to remain hopeful, but I think he was anxiously consumed with the anticipation of wondering when Arthur would come back. In this au, Arthur may or may not know that Merlin is supposed to come back (I’m still working on that detail), but he’s always been around others. I think he would seek camaraderie, and companionship, and that he would connect with others but only to a superficial level. I don’t think he’d exist in a void of loneliness. Plus, he doesn’t have the guilt of knowing he failed because the pressure from the prophecy is very one sided *coughcough*causemerlinnevertoldhim*coughcough*

Anyways, that’s enough rambling from me about this. I’ll probably share some snippets of writing next because there are some fantastic scenes coming together in the draft so stay tuned! ;D

[leifyposting]

“Will you be back?” Jean asks. 

She’s sitting straight-backed on Lisa’s bed with her hands folded in her lap, her hair plaited tightly along her skull in preparation for training. She looks ill at ease, as she does often these days — the inescapable consequence of clawing her way out from under her mother’s shadow, trying to refit her skin to the role of an infantry captain, navigating the unwanted attention that comes from being 16 but looking older. 

“Oh, probably,” Lisa says, and watches Jean’s face go blank like it does when she’s trying not to show that she’s upset. 

It’s a little cruel, her flippant answer. She should feel guiltier about it, maybe reassure her best friend that she’ll be back as soon as she’s able. 

But Lisa has ambitions, gods forgive her: dreams bigger than sleepy Mondstadt and its placid people. If Jean loves her — which she does, Lisa knows this without asking — then she’ll have to let her go. 

“But you’ll write,” Jean says, sounding uncertain. 

“I’ll do my best,” Lisa says. She does feel guilty, this time — Jean’s stoic silence does nothing to hide her disappointment. “I hear the Akademiya’s workload is intense. But I’ll try.”

“You can handle it,” Jean says, with a faith that borders on fealty. “You’re brilliant, Lisa.”

Lisa grins. She is brilliant — she knows this well. It is the one thing she has going for her: she is not charming like Diluc, funny like Kaeya, or diligent, courageous, and radiant like Jean. But the Akademiya had sought her out for her mind, even though, at 18, she is much older than the vast majority of novices scouted from outside Sumeru. 

Lisa is smart. She doesn’t intend to squander that. 

“You’re too kind,” she says, throwing one last cardigan into her suitcase and then kneeling on it to zip it up. In a flash, Jean is on the floor in front of her, long swordsman’s fingers pressed to the top of the suitcase as she reaches for the zipper on the other end. Together, they wrangle the suitcase shut. 

Lisa looks down to grin triumphantly towards where Jean is kneeling before her. They are very close, like this, Jean’s face tilted up towards her own. If Lisa were to lean forward just a little, she could—

Jean stands abruptly. She extends a hand to pull Lisa up, her grip betraying the strength concealed in her wiry frame. 

When they both have their feet firmly planted on the floor — and Jean has genteelly let go of Lisa’s hand within an appropriate time frame rather than holding on to it a moment too long like Lisa almost wishes she would — Lisa looks up and finds herself surprised, as she always is, at how tall Jean has gotten. 

Despite being two years her junior, Jean is already half a handbreadth taller than Lisa, and fixing to grow taller still. Lean and broad-shouldered, she carries herself with a poise devoid of pretense or affectation; she hasn’t quite mastered the Gunnhildr presence that Frederica wears so well, but Lisa can already tell that it won’t be long until Jean too wears it like a second skin. 

Lisa wonders, not for the first time, what happened to the quiet, wide-eyed child who’d looked to her for comfort during storms as if the lightning itself heeded her words. And then she puts those thoughts to one side, because she is leaving for the Akademiya tomorrow, and she cannot afford to second-guess.

Lisa has never known her father, you see, and her mother passed away a year ago. There is nothing more keeping her in Mondstadt.

Well. Nothing except Jean.

“I can’t come to bid you goodbye tomorrow,” Jean says suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“Oh?”

“I’m taking my Company on a training exercise in the field. I won’t be in town when you leave.”

Reschedule your training, Lisa doesn’t say. Aren’t I more important than your Company? 

She bites her tongue and holds back the mean-spirited question, because she is a good friend. (And because she is afraid she already knows what the answer is.)

“That’s okay,” she says instead. 

“I am sorry,” Jean says. 

She looks penitent enough that Lisa abandons her resentment and reaches up to tweak her nose. “Oh, don’t look so sad, darling. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

“I’m not sad,” Jean protests, going a little pink in the cheeks. 

Lisa feigns offense. “You’re not sad that your best friend is leaving?”

“I-I—” Jean stammers. “That’s not—” She catches the mischief behind Lisa’s eyes and glowers at her. “Stop teasing.”

Lisa pouts and throws her arms around Jean’s neck, dragging her down into a hug. “Oh, but you make it so easy!”

Jean snakes her arms around Lisa’s waist and leans only a little awkwardly into the hug. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Emotion, strange and cloying, chokes off Lisa’s windpipe. She squeezes Jean a little tighter. “I will miss teasing you,” she says, in lieu of the myriad other confessions that linger at the tip of her tongue. 

Jean doesn’t respond — only sighs, and presses her cheek wordlessly into Lisa’s curls. They stand there for a long moment. 

Eventually Jean shifts, glancing at the clock on Lisa’s wall. “I should go,” she says regretfully. “I have preparations to make before my field excursion tomorrow.”

Selfishly, Lisa holds on for a fraction of a second more. Then she disentangles herself from Jean and offers her a brilliant smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep the Lionfang Knight from her duties.”

Jean’s answering smile is a small, wistful thing. “Have a safe trip, Lisa. Write me when you get there?”

“I will,” Lisa promises: her one concession to sentiment. 

“I would wish you luck,” Jean says, “but I know you won’t need it.”

Lisa smiles. “Same to you.”

Jean stares at her a moment, as if committing the lines of her face to memory. Then she nods. “Goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye, Jean,” Lisa says. 

Jean turns and lets herself out of the room, the doorknob as accustomed to her hand as to Lisa’s. The door shuts noiselessly behind her. 

Lisa allows herself 10 ridiculous seconds of staring at the door, hoping against all her better sense that it will open again and reveal Jean in the doorway. 

When it does not, as Lisa had known it wouldn’t, she throws herself back into putting her room to rights, packing everything that will fit into her suitcases and leaving the nonessentials in boxes. 

She has no time for frivolous, unscientific sentiment. She has so much to do. She is leaving for the Akademiya tomorrow, she reminds herself. 

And she tries not to think too hard about why it feels like she is the one being left behind, instead. 

[gummydummy19]

The urge to cook the most delicious meals for your man…watching him turn into a big, strong, chonky bear…putting on that happy weight and bragging to all his friends about how amazing your cooking skills are and how you keep him nice and fed…

And at night…hmmmm at night…when it’s just the two of you…he holds you down…his warm chest against your back…big, strong arms wrapped around you…he covers you completely…his cock so deep inside you can feel it in your belly….his lips pepper kisses across your shoulders and your neck…his breath hot against the shell of your ear…

“My perfect angel…always so good for me, so good to me…I love you like this, all helpless under me…you love it too don’t you?”

Ofcourse you do…you love that he can just have his way with you…you love that he doesn’t even have to ask…you’re always ready for him…always wet…

“You love how much bigger than you I am…how much stronger…fuck…is that why you’re always feeding me hmm?”

Fuck…busted….

“Keeping me stuffed so you can watch me get bigger and stronger for you…hmm fuck baby…my turn to stuff you now, isn’t it?”

[byrdstrolls]

NEW SPRITES FOR THE DOCTOR OF ALL TIME HANAGI CHEONG <3

[eld-creative]

Battle hungry

[mommycity]

Older Gojo

Omg!!! Thinking about older Gojo in his early 40s or late thirties. He’s still teaching, still checking in on his older kids when he can. He doesn’t go on missions anymore and just handles stuff with younger sorcerers . He doesn't date but he stumbles in your house sometimes. Fills himself up on your cooking, helps with chores. He spends his days exercising in your garden that he had built for you and playing simply board games. He often comes over for dinner or lunch and he keeps coming back because he loves it, it feels like home for him. He also can’t help but flirt with you, you're such a cute thing and similar to him: a mostly retired sorcerer. He’s agreed to have you just wade around the home  and only care about the rest of your days with domestic activities. Once a month he’ll invite all his kids over for family dinner, he helps you cook and prep everything. His kids wonder if sensei has found a lover of sorts but he only chortles at their questions. He’s found a home. 

And on some days he comes staggering in and asks you to make him something sweet. You ofc whip up a pastry for him that’s topped with matcha and whipped cream with fresh fruits. His favorites. He’ll sit at your table and wait for you to come out with the treat. The heavy look in his gaze is followed with,”why don’t you feed me yourself beautiful”. And you do. You settle your weight onto a neighboring chair before he pushes you into his lap. Your legs sit on one side of him as you feed him bit by bit of the yummy treat. He moans, satisfied with the sweet view and sweet treat.

You two spend many days like this. Filling each other’s company, and you specifically filling Gojo’s tummy. Your cooking starts to show on him. As the days go on his waist softens. The skin of his mid section becomes malleable and soft. His muscles are still evident in his chest, shoulders and biceps. His thighs and ass followed suit and swelled along with him. It’s enough to make your mouth water. The clothes that once fit him stretch and ripple, much to his dismay. But he does little to change it when he sees how you look at him as he eats. The way that food travels down his throat grows tantalizing. The light hugs become pleading squeezes. You can find your hands traveling from his back, to his full waist and at times a squeeze of his thick ass. He sees your hunger for his maturing body and he returns it. He loves squeezing you in small spaces and holding you against his hair chest, loves spending the lazy days and nights cuddling and being cuddled by your soft arms. 

And on some days!!!! He’s so worked up. It’s rare that you ever make a move on you. Opting to simply get off in your shower alone. Sometimes it’s simply insatiable, especially when he comes home to you in nothing but his    a large tshirt while cooking in the kitchen. When you turn around to greet him he’s greatest with your nipples poking through the shirt and he’s had enough of just jerking off to photos of you. He traps between the countertop before greeting you. “You always fill my tummy with yummy food, baby your making me soft. Let me fill your tummy honey. Please” 

Middle aged Gojo spends his days folding your half and fucking you full, on occasion he might he be on the receiving end. Older Gojo doesn’t work to hold his statues anymore. He’s fully trusting in you and lets you handle him when you want. He handles you on every surface of your home but his favorite is the couch. Loves fuckinging you while you both lay on your side. He loves it even more on lazy days when dinner and sex end up happening at the same time and you struggle to feed him his home made food. His moans are both from the satisfaction of your food and your body. He looks so fucking good when he’s warm and glowing. His soft tummy fills the curve of your back just right you can’t ignore his space. He finds himself whimpering these days: a light pink dusting his pale cheeks. The indulgences he so craved for being fulfilled by someone who he really likes-no loves. Gojo who kisses sweet purple marks on your skin and begs you to look at him so he can finish. “F-fuck baby ugh so pretty. Mmm please. Love you, love your body, love your home. Please h-huh let me cum inside. Anything Mmm~” and he kisses your face so sloppy. His kisses clash with the corner of  your mouth as he thrust harder, slower and deeper. You let him cum inside and his fluffy lashes close in his height. He can see your combined releases all over his cock and both of your thighs and some of your tummy. He can’t help but flip you over and kiss you so sloppily.  He loves his new soft life. His tummy is always full and he comes home to a pretty thing cooking his meals and warming his cock. 

giggles I want chubby toru so bad!! I also did that sketch based off this idea :3

[willowser]

bodyguard au + bathtime fic for kiri ?

oooooh, this is fun !!! i'm thinking of like, some situation in which you are the child of someone who is big and wealthy, maybe owns a few different multi-million dollar corporations and perhaps doesn't do it all legally 👀

kirishima has always been in the service of protecting your father !! you know him because he is a forever shadow in your home, quiet and large, peeking out windows and making sure doors are locked. he only speaks if you speak to him first, but his answers are always cut short when your father is around.

— so on a night when he has to go out of town, you're a little delighted to see kirishima sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work.

"hi," he tells you, rising to stand leagues above you. his face is sweet, despite his wide stature. shy. "your dad asked me to stay with you until he comes back, i hope you don't mind."

oh, you don't mind at all.

it's probably really fun !!! and you make the two of you dinner and he relaxes a bit after eating, even takes off the dark jacket he's always in. his forehead shines a little, like he's sweaty, and he hikes the sleeves of his white button-up to his elbows underneath the fluorescence.

he's still is a bit hard to talk to, but he listens as you prattle on about your day, scooting around the kitchen as you clean up. he offers to finish for you, but you shoo at him to sit back down and after a little bit of insistence from you, he finally agrees to have a beer. or two.

that loosens him up enough that the conversation flows a bit easier; you learn his first name, and his cheeks go red when you repeat it with a grin. he tells you a little about his mom, that he's an only child, that he never went to college: very basic stuff that paints a vague picture of him.

you know your father does some shady things, deals with shady people. why else would he need a giant for a bodyguard, that could probably snap a man's neck without even trying ?? kirishima tells you little things, but he doesn't go too deep. doesn't reveal what twists and turns he made in his past to put him here.

eventually you leave to get ready for bed, and the soft look on his face ALMOST has you sitting down for more with him. he shifts his eyes to the table, then, like he knows he's been caught staring too long and you wonder — when the last time was that he did anything for himself ?? not for your father, or even for you, but. for eijirou.

regardless, you slip on up the stairs and take your time making a nice bubble bath, putting on some light music. there's a bar on the second floor and you steal a bottle of wine from it and two glasses before nestling in the warm water, spreading your legs out to test how much room you have in the gigantic tub.

and then you call for him. a little more urgently that necessary, but it brings him to you quicker, suddenly appearing in the open doorway of your bathroom with wide eyes, flushing down his neck when he sees you.

you lean against the edge of the tub, smiling as you prop your chin in your hand. "i was wondering if you could help me wash my back."

the question seems to buffer in his mind for a long time before he's finally blinking, adam's apple bobbing. and then he's bringing the bathroom door behind him as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

✨️ trope game ! ✨️

[archonoclasm]

𝗛𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗣𝗮𝘃𝘂𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗮 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘀𝗮𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲. No, not just simply blood magic, a mere prick to one's finger, but specifically the siphoning of blood from someone entirely unwilling. Halward had wanted to change Dorian. Halward desired a more pliable son, an obedient son, and a child who would ask, if ever he were told to jump, 'how high, father?' before jumping off the cliff. Of course, wanting an heir, Halward had to alter Dorian permanently and at a very fundamental level, a goal that would require a very strong spell.

Dorian: I wouldn’t put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away. Selfish, I suppose, not to wanting to spend my entire life screaming on the inside. He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me acceptable. I found out. I left.

A strong spell in the case of blood magic, unfortunately, also means a greater cost. Where other forms of magic have mages tapping into their connection with the Fade, blood magic requires one to make sacrifices -- be it on their own accord and body or someone else's. This is where the line between a simple spell of blood magic crosses into blood ritual territory, as the demands of both seem to vary considerably.

As we learn in Inquisition, Magister Livius Erimond joins the Grey Wardens and has their outfit undergo a widespread blood magic ritual wherein Grey Wardens were sacrificed to be bound to demons. Furthermore, we know that the Magisters Sidereal had conducted a blood ritual in which they were able to physically enter the Fade, though not without murdering a devastating amount of slaves. These examples are given not to say that a ritual always needs many bodies, unwilling or not, but to highlighte rather that the threat of death is always a very real and very near possibility.

However, as Halward Pavus, is neither willing to let neither himself nor his sole heir die, that would mean that he would require the sacrifice of someone else. In this case, as man of stature, wealth, and as a influential and extremely powerful magister in the Imperium, one could reasonably believe that that means a slave -- one of the House Pavus' undoubtedly. Halward had prepared to kill off a slave, perhaps several, in his monstrous and harebrained attempt to have his son sire him an heir. It hardly even mattered that he might have lost Dorian in all ways but physical considering how dangerous, difficult, and risky this ritual was. Again, this is a ritual for a complete and permanent change in someone else. What mattered most to Halward, however, was their family name.

Inquisitor: Can blood magic actually do that? Dorian: Maybe. It could also have left me a drooling vegetable. It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal. Part of me has always hoped he didn't really want to go through with it. If he had… I can't even imagine the person I would be now. I wouldn't like that Dorian.

All that to say, Halward, considering the scope and intensity of this ritual, would have been planning for a great deal of time. In my interpretation of Dorian, I would have imagined, as one could reasonably suspect, that Halward had to trick Dorian or subdue him as there's certainly no possible way that Dorian would allow this. As such, considering how heavy on the drink Dorian had been back then, the idea of lacing something in his bottle or glass would have, to Halward, made sense.

It's over dinner. Aquinea is sat with them, all three sat substantially far apart, more cold, more distant, and nothing too familial. Halward tries for conversation, his own strange flavor of temperate stoking both a wicked hope in Dorian's heart and a considerable wariness. In the end, it's silly, as most things tend to be with them, how Dorian finds out about his father's intentions. Dorian sought to slip away early, needing space, still, after their recent fight over his opposing his arrangement with Livia Heradanus. ("You are no son of mine.") However, Halward urges him to sit and to finish his dinner, and because Dorian is Dorian who seldom ever listens, now a step away from the table, Halward commands he drinks. It alerts Dorian at once who, glancing at his mother, notices the sharp line of her mouth had grown all the thinner. It can't be, he thinks, as he takes up the glass and levels his father with a glare all a flurry of emotion.

"Magnanimity to pair with the pudding? It must be a holiday," he says glibly, charm and honey and razored hurt. "But I'm afraid I already had so much the other night as I'm sure we've all doubtlessly learned. Perhaps you should like to finish this with me? We can think of it as a toast to my turning a new leaf!"

And Halward doesn't. Halward sits still as Aquinea carves her steak. Dorian watches them both, a deep pit of hurt gutting in his belly. "It was supposed to be simple, son," his father says as Dorian asks hotly what he'd put in the wine. "Something I'd only thought would make things easier for you. You'd forced my hand." Right. Of course. Bolting from the room, a servant-- the house Pavus' favorite -- finds him as he hurries down the hall. "Am I free to go then, Lord Pavus?" he asks him, as Dorian stands there speechless. His father comes from farther behind, his footsteps bounding down the hall, and it is all metronome and thunk-thunk-thunk.

"Remind me," he breathes. "Free you from what exactly?"

He fidgets. "I--I'm not sure. Your father hadn't said."

"Typical. Had he told you to strip down like that, too?'

"He had. I was instructed to wait here until you were done with dinner."

Oh. "Well, it seems we're all retiring early for the evening."

"Lord Pavus." A breath. "I was told to clear my cot before I came down here. I'm not -- I'm not being punished for some offense, am I?"

"Are you being what?"

"Not for your offense, no. But that of my son's."

They both turn about. Dorian spies Halward go cold and steely. "There are things to consider that go beyond you, Dorian." Oh. The drink. Their argument. Their slave's quaking fear-- "I can't sit idly by to watch our house fall with you."

A ritual.

"At least this way, you can do something other than disappoint."

Right. Dorian rears away. His heart bellows like a maelstrom in the seat of his chest. Betrayal snicks through his middle, rendering him cloven to bleed messily and thick. His father goes to see him when the morning sun rises, but by then, after a quick letter to Maevaris, Dorian's left. In the back of his head, he still hears the clatter of Aquinea's cutlery.

[good-beanswrites]

Sorry to double up on your inbox, but I had this burning idea.

Suppose Fuuta's sister has had her hair styled like the Milgram girls at various points. What scenarios might come up when Fuuta mistakes the girls for his sister?

I know you were looking for ideas on all of the girls but I got really carried away with this one train of thought with Kotoko, so have some of that instead 😭 I'm such a sucker for 02-04-06 seeming the type to use beauty products and know their way around a lot of hair care, and triggering memories for Fuuta via scents/sounds of his sister's job. And as you've seen I'm so emotional over him seeing Amane as an equal as they both care for each other and she feels like family...

Fuuta was used to people disappointing him.

He’d been let down by his mother, then his father. He’d seen how all of society screws its people over. His own friends had turned their backs on him when things got rocky. Even here, he couldn’t count on any of these people to look out for him. Well, all except one. 

Kotoko. 

He’d actually done a double take when he first saw her. Her hair was styled much like his sister’s; from behind, it could have been her with a bit of dye. 

It wouldn’t have been so bizarre for her to color her head shining black. After all, that had always been his sister’s method of rebellion. His father was a traditional man, and hated to see her chop all her hair off, chop others’ hair off, add more piercings, or change it to any and every shade that wasn’t the family’s natural red. Fuuta had always thought they were all hollow exercises, more for attention than anything else. (It was nothing like the actual action he was taking to break away from his father’s strictness). Seeing Kotoko wear an eerily similar look, and hearing how closely her views aligned with his, he started to understand the appeal.

While the others were intimidated by her appearance, Fuuta found it familiar. Unlike the rest of the prison, he had no hesitation in approaching her. He was more willing to sit beside her at meals. He joined in her conversations in the common area. 

Mahiru kept going on about being everyone’s ‘big sis,’ but she never took a damned thing seriously. Yuno told Fuuta he reminded her of her little brother, but the last thing he needed was to be treated like some baby. Kotoko, on the other hand, knew exactly how to speak with him. 

She came to show him her solidarity before his interrogation. She gave him tips on working out, and joined in his conversations about the injustice of current prison systems. She even had his back when he was scolding Mikoto about taking fighting styles seriously. He jeered at the notion that Kotoko could overpower Kazui. Though, deep down, he’d seen how strong the woman was. For someone the same age as him, and busy with university like him, she had insanely impressive power.

He’d never dare admit it, but he looked on in awe whenever she worked out in the common areas. 

Fuuta found even more comfort in her strength as the trial came to a close. The two ended up with opposite verdicts, but that wasn’t anything new. Teachers, neighbors, relatives – everyone had reasons to praise his sister while dragging up grievances against him. Both women had a sort of brash charisma that people enjoyed. He usually only got the label of “brash.” Kotoko was saved his rant that it all came from their differences in gender and beauty. Fuuta was confident she’d come to the same conclusion already. 

After all, what else separated them? They were here for practically the same reason.

He didn’t let it get under his skin. While the prisoners shied away from him and the others named unforgiven, he could always count on Kotoko to speak with him as honestly and directly as usual. 

The warden and the prisoners weren’t the only ones to let him down: the voices in his head had gone from a fair debate to a loud, nasty mob with each passing day.

They seemed to be at their very worst, now. He was going on a few nights of little to no sleep thanks to their nonstop judgment. Fuuta tossed and turned in his sheets, cursing the new uniform that made it impossible to relax. It had been exhausting, consumed by fear and guilt and anger. Everything had him jumpy these days.

He flinched as his cell door creaked. 

His bleary eyes turned to the silhouette in the doorway. A name instinctively came to his lips. Thankfully, he corrected himself before making the embarrassing mistake. 

“It’s you, Kotoko.” It was strange for her to be here at this hour. And completely unannounced, at that. 

“Kajiyama Fuuta…”

He didn’t care. He smiled. After all, surrounded by so many betrayals, he always felt safer with her around.

[moonlightdistractions]

Picture this: 15 year old Sammy sitting on a rickety deck in too-short cut offs, swinging his legs and splashing at the water with a soft smile on his lips. Skinny but with skindeep muscles. Shaggy hair wet, slicked back but falling onto his forehead shyly. He tips back his head, sighs as the sun's warmth kisses his face. He's unaware of his brother watching him from his perch on a shoreline rock, a slight frown on his full lips. Dean is struck with an unfamiliar feeling, his eyes squinting at fresh sharp angles - he's jealous of the sun.

[mushroompollution]

Chapter 52: Bloody Rites (pt 1)

Previous Chapters: The Sablier Arc Masterpost (35-42) || 43 || 44 || 45 || 46 || 47 || 48 || 49 || 50 || 51

Read the manga: imgur || mangaread (ad warning / full chapter so spoiler warning) I promise 2-parters won't be the new norm, but I think the second half of this is too important to cut down that much. also this chapter is just stupid long, I'd have to combine pages to fit it in one imgur album anyway

Isla Yura is speechless as he watches Lottie and her Chain make short work of his two guards. But as she threatens to do the same to him if he doesn't take her to the Stone, it's quickly apparent that it's not fear that Yura is gripped with.

It's admiration. This man could not be more excited to have the big bad Baskervilles murdering his servants. Actually, its the highest honor. This is his own Christmas!

But unfortunately, he can't just hand the Stone over, he still needs it for his ceremony. And so, he readies himself to fight her with his legendary hand-to-hand skills.

Yeah. Yura proves to be no real threat, to the point it's kind of pathetic.

But Break is another story.

It's not too much unlike they way met back in Sablier. Remembering that interaction, Lottie asks what he meant back then, when he had asked her to be his friend.

It's simple, Break says. He and the Baskervilles seem to have the same goal, so why don't they team up?

Oh, but their partnership does hinge on one little detail. He knows about the Pandora guards murdered by the Baskervilles. But there's one of them still unaccounted for. Depending on the fate of Reim Lunettes, he may give up any plans of a peaceful solution, Break threatens.

Back in the other hall, Oz tells Leo to go ahead. Leo protests that it's too dangerous for him to be alone, but Oz makes a great point. If the Headhunter is really there, wouldn't Elliot be a more likely target than him? Besides, Leo wanted to apologize for their fight as soon as possible.

He admits to being a bit envious of Leo and Elliot's friendship, the respect they have for each other that allows them to speak their minds so feely to each other.

Leo thanks him and takes the traumatized maid as he races back towards the main ballroom. Oz watches them go, then turns back to the hall with a much more serious expression.

Whoever was lurking at the end of that hall is suddenly taken down as Alice pops out of Oz's shadow. As he tries to comprehend what's going on, he hears Sharon's voice in his head, speaking to him through her Chain, Equius. She explains that she heard the tense conversation and didn't want Oz to go alone.

Meanwhile, Alice pulls back the hood of the shady figure she's just tackled. And Oz is shocked to recognize them.

Back in the other hall, Break and Lottie are suddenly surrounded by two red robed figures wielding short swords. Except, they aren't any Baskervilles Lottie recognizes.

From his place on the ground, Isla Yura laughs.

Gilbert and Elliot race up to Sharon as all hell breaks loose in the ballroom. A red robed figure appears behind her as she tries to relay Oz's situation to them, and is summarily neutralized by one roundhouse kick from Gil.

Finally, he's not entirely useless.

But Sharon still has no time to explain, as she and Gilbert watch in horror as more people in those red robes begin to set fire to the billowing curtains. In the chaos, Vanessa and her valet frantically search for Elliot, who seemed to just disappear into the stampede.

Back in the other hall, those figures who had ambushed them are no match for Lottie and Break.

Doug's chain moves too quick to really see. But as he grabs Lottie and whisks her off to safety, her eyes meet Break's. They escape, and Break notices that Isla Yura had also managed to disappear some time during their brief encounter with the imposters.

Judging by their skill level, or lack thereof, the pair that had ambushed them lacked any real martial training.

So why were they dressed up as Baskervilles? Why did they attack them?

Break thinks about his missing friend. And then Sharon. He grinds his teeth and turns to go back to the ballroom, knowing his duty is at her side.

[tomatoswup]

when

summary: the when's and development of your feelings for a certain typhoon.

warnings: angst? more bittersweet really

A/N: honestly, this was a quick drabble after finishing notes for class :D since it was just a quick idea, i didn't really develop into a whole backstory and stuff without getting ahead of myself lmao but angst? yes(my first attempt) also was listening to tame impala's "For the First Time" as I wrote this so that kinda explains alot, enjoy!

When you first started gaining feelings for Vash, it was a night filled with thought and contemplation from your own head. Was this right? He was your best friend for god sake! No, you can't like him. It's not that you didn't want to, you couldn't. Your mind told you to hold back, to stop whatever was developing in you about the typhoon. And as much as you didn't want to accept it, you were in denial. The pair of you have traveled together for so long but you never got tired of the mischievous glint in his eyes, and the toothy smile he would shoot at you. You found it..cute.

In your own words, Vash was too considerate for a world that put their back to him, and you found it admirable.

You clenched the jacket you wore tightly as the snores of your caravan filled the night behind a large rock you sat behind. Maybe you needed the priest to pray for you...

When you started accepting your feelings for him, it felt as if your stomach constantly hurt every time you'd stand too near to him. And honestly, Vash had been the first crush you've had in a real long time and that flustered you a bit more. Whenever he'd put his hands on your shoulders, the familiar sensation of electricity ran up your back to which he'd curiously ask why your face had flushed red. Were you sick? He recommended a day off from working around with Wolfwood. Of course he did. when he walked away, you couldn't help but quickly cover your face with your hands.

When you noticed the difference, it kind of...hurt. The fact that he had become more affectionate with Meryl, seeking to find her side and accompany her more than he had with you. Was that a hand-hold? You felt a minor tinge in your heart. But that was okay! You guys were still best friends! Why were you feeling some type of way about it? You should be supporting him! You try to shrug the thought off and continue walking behind them as that little toothy smile you loved and had thought was reserved for just you, was given to another. You smiled on to the both of them, ignoring the growing ache in your chest.

When Wolfwood finally noticed the change in your behavior whenever you gazed at the pair, you had already fallen deep into the heavy pressure that resided in your heart. You didn't want to stop Vash from going after Meryl. What kind of person would you be if you did? Wolfwood confronts you as you had temporarily stepped away one night as everyone took camp in the dry deserts of No Man's Land. And as the more questions Wolfwood asked you, the more your throat felt as if it wanted to burn. And it wasn't until he asked a singular question, that you broke. You sobbed as the ache in your chest got unbearable and so heavy your stomach dropped to the floor and the familiar feeling of wanting to throw up arose. Wolfwood sighs and takes a seat next to you, rubbing your back as you leaned onto him for support.

"Is it needle-noggin and Meryl?"

When Vash and Meryl got officially together and Vash had come to break the news to you, you couldn't help but give him a pained smile, not even attempting to speak in fear of a tear falling out. and he asks what's wrong? Were you feeling okay? Did you need help? And he gives you that same toothy-nervous grin when you shake your head in fake reassurance.

oh how you missed that smile.

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

not sure if you're still taking these, but norrix and song no 71? for the spotify drabbles? 😅🖤

I'll take requests as long as people send them in and/or until we exhaust the list! I just counted and I think there are still 71 unpicked songs left. (29 songs have been picked so far, 2 twice, so I only counted them once each)

Unfortunately, this song was not easy to spin for Norrix. I think I found a way to make it work?

71. Ludens by Bring Me The Horizon

The storm outside raged, pelting the window with harsh rain. The tempest had been raging for hours.

Lando felt alone, disconnected, and miserable.

The race has been shit, which was just the tip of today's crappy iceberg. The weather had been relentless and rough, tossing Lando around both on the track and on the way back to the hotel. Then the power had cut out for a while, and the wifi hadn't returned with it. And now he was all alone, unable to contact anyone. Even Martijn.

Oh yeah, that was another thing. The airport was a mess due to the weather. And that meant Martijn's flight probably wasn't coming in tonight.

Lando missed him so much. He hated being alone like this, feeling isolated and grumpy, stuck in his own head and unable to quiet his mind. Martijn could always help him when he was like this. But he couldn't have him.

He just had to be alone for now.

Miserably, he rolled over on the bed and shut his eyes. He couldn't have Martijn with him tonight, the one thing that might lift him out of the dark funk he was in. He'd just try to sleep and hope that maybe, they would be a bit closer to each other tomorrow.

He turned his back to the raging storm, hoping that, wherever Martijn was, he was dry and safe.