#also pretend their goggles are drawn

[outeragent4]

[pluckyredhead]

Red Hood and the Outlaws #6 (2011)

Hey, remember when I was recapping this series? Well, unfortunately for all of us, I'm gonna do it some more.

I will admit this is a pretty good cover.

This shit, however, makes me so mad. What an absolutely lazy waste of space. This comic is 20 pages long, not including the cover. That means that this two page spread is literally an entire tenth of the story, and it's used to convey...what? That Jason just fought some guys who were trying to smuggle nukes into Miami.

A two-page spread is meant to deliver impact: a crucial moment in the story, a stunning piece of art, an impressive sense of scale (Galactus looming over the Earth, whatever). This does none of that. Most of the page is just a teal gradient; Rocafort didn't even bother to draw an impressive underwater scene. (I kind of don't blame him, because it would have been a waste of his time, since this scene is NOT NARRATIVELY IMPORTANT.)

Also, the page before this is also a splash, and the one after is three panels depicting Jason caught in an explosion, and that's a generous description considering that one of the panels has nothing in it but bubbles. So now we're up to TWENTY percent of the comic, a full FIFTH of the story, and we have conveyed LITERALLY NOTHING except "Jason got caught up in an underwater explosion."

This is lazy writing and lazy art. This is charging the reader for 20 pages of story and delivering maybe seven, content-wise. It's shamelessly ripping off the audience, and they aren't even trying to pretend they aren't doing it. I don't know if Lobdell didn't have enough story in him or if he was trying to give Rocafort more time to drawn stupid little lines all over everything, New 52-style, but it pisses me off.

Anyway, Jason wakes up on an island a few days later (and a narration box on the first page established that this takes place before RHATO #1):

This page has six panels which is a very respectable amount, although I still don't think it's a great use of space. But I guess Rocafort was really busy adding wood texture to all the panel borders for no reason. Anyway the little pile of leaves Kori has graciously dropped over Jason's dick is very funny.

Jason wakes up, tries to demand his pants from Kori at gunpoint, and passes out again. He has a flashback to the world's most hideous Nightwing costume:

Awful. Also, Jason flounces off in a bratty little fit in the next couple panels, but I support him, because if you actually read what Dick's saying, it's meaningless filler.

See, now this is an appropriate use of a two-page spread for impact and scale. Much more effective. Imagine how effective it would have been if every other spread for five issues hadn't tried and failed at this!

Kori offers Jason some clothing, which turns out to be the hideous Nightwing suit, and Jason flashes back to Under the Red Hood: Shitty Version:

Who needs "Because he took me away from you" when we have whatever the fuck this is?

Jason gets all upset. Kori sniffs Dick's costume and says she can't remember his name, but she has fond memories of the guy who used to wear it. There's a flashback of her and Dick and Roy in action together. Okay, so she clearly remembers Dick and Roy at least somewhat, which is probably Lobdell starting to walk back the controversial amnesia bullshit in the first issue.

Jason tells Kori his connection to Dick and asks if she's mad, which...even setting aside Kori's memory issues and general lack of grudge holding in any continuity, why would she be mad that Jason has the same mentor as a guy she remembers fondly? Anyway, she is indeed not mad and they hug it out. If this is supposed to be depicting Jason's smug "I've been with her" in the first issue, it...really doesn't read like they boned.

Jason's narration on the last page further obscures things:

"Friendship and romance are really the same thing. Anyway LET'S TALK ABOUT ROY HARPER." Okay I know that's me reading with ship goggles but it truly is a very funny transition.

So that's how Jason met Kori! She...pulled him out of the water, and they discussed how they both knew Dick. Definitely worth spending a whole issue on that very interesting story!

[chrometheraptor]

Okay so we know moss doesn't have pockets but if he did what would he keep in them

Btw if you're willing to answer this question goes for all the other dragons as well, I'm curious about their hypothetical pocket contents

I mean I have drawn them as humans(ish) before so. Pretend it’s the human au jfkdbfkd

Moss would have a flip phone I feel. It fits him. He only got it so he can keep in contact with Cove and the kids. He’s also usually got like a granola bar or fruit snacks or smth on him so that he’s always got something to eat if he gets hungry! I think he’d also keep a pocket knife with him. In his wallet he’s got a group picture of him n Cove w the kids :D

Cove would carry a bag around everywhere that’s got a bunch of snacks and water bottles in it

Zephyr’s always got his phone on him and not much else

Dustbowl would have an absolutely insane swiss army knife that’s got like ten different things in it. Also a rag to clean her goggles with!

Kelp’s got an mp3 player and some headphones

Wish wouldn’t have anything on her I don’t think

[dangerously-human]

Favorite Stargate Atlantis head canons? I've just be popping into people's asks today LOL

Ah, bestie, I am sorry it took me so long to get to this, my responses to asks/tags are quite backlogged! I do LOVE this question, though, and have been looking forward to having the time to properly think about it all week. So, it should be clarified that I'm a little stingy with headcanons proper, that is, headcanons in the sense that I fully believe "this did happen" or "this is how it would go down in this happened in canon." But I have two about Sheppard you can pry out of my cold, dead hands: 1) Sheppard's mom died when he was pretty little, maybe 8ish or possibly younger, of cancer or another drawn-out illness, and a huge amount of the tension between John and his brother is that Patrick (that's his name, right?) was old enough to have to deal with more of the emotional and practical fallout, supporting their dad, actually understanding what their mom was going through, and he resented John for being "babied" (not to mention having to take care of him) and yet still grieving even though he didn't have to shoulder as much of the burden. And then, on a happier note, 2) whenever Sheppard eventually has a kid, he is the most ridiculous worrywart, hovering over his wife from the second he finds out she's pregnant, panicking so much about the birth that Carson or Keller threatens to send them back to Earth just to not have to deal with him (or, if they're back on Earth at that point, the doctor kicks him out of the room because he can't handle having three patients, two is enough, thank you). I mean, come on, after how he reacted to Teyla's pregnancy, you know he'd be a mix of freaked out and fawning the entire time, like he would jump through multiple stargates for the purpose of fulfilling late-night cravings but he's also going to probably be at risk of being murdered (knowing the kind of woman he'd end up with, fierce is an understatement I'm sure - we'll pretend I've successfully taken off my Sparky ship goggles for the time being) for being overly protective.

[crazy-pe3p]

hello

i made a little random au earlier for rats smp where they're all teachers and we fleas/etc. are their students

(pretend eloise is in her rats outfit she was drawn from memory and also ignore how twig-like bek's arms are here. i dont know what happened there but.)

yeah!

also, i think all the members would have a little rat pin on their shirts or in their hair or somewhere visible. i drew one on scott (clip on the apron thing) but i forgot about them qhen drawing these two oops

(little facts/thoughts about them)

bekel is canon. like they're oblivious. even the others are exasperated with them (they express it to the students whenever bek/el pops in) and so are the fleas. (this is basically the same in rsmp canon)

the statue canon r!bek got for ratmas? instead it's a miniature clay figure of el wrapped up all nice for them

scott sometimes pops into owen's room while he(owen) is teaching something important just to take something small and unimportant for no reason other than to bother him

also copper duo have matching goggles in the au. ive decided.

[sideofmango]

HOT TOMALES! I just got a great idea for a request! Bakugo, Fatgum, Sero, and Hawks hcs of them with a black!fem!s/o but she has a Galaxy quirk. It gives her purple blue eyes with stars and constellation pupils that changes when she blinks, she blushes stardust and mini stars, has sparkly tears, and her quirk allows her to use black holes, comet like projectiles, and she can make mini stars and planets appear from her energy along with spreading stars and constellation like freckles all over her body. (I saw these gorgeous art designs and I couldn’t help myself. I do not own the art, they are just inspiration to me for this request 😭✨)

“She’s Out of This World” - Headcannons

Pairings: bakugou, fatgum, sero, and hawks x black!fem! reader Pronouns: she/her Warnings: none...besides a few curse words (cough...bakugou...cough)

Thanks for another great request <3

He definitely was NOT looking forward to the new foreign student joining the class when Aizawa first announced it

But then you stepped through the oversized doorway and he very obviously did a double take

Bakubitch was seeing stars...literally...you were flustered and blushing stardust

Bakugou thought that you were hot and your quirk was cool...though he would NOT admit it

He was definitely overly aggressive towards you when you met each other because bby boi didn’t know how to express his feelings

Hi crush grew when he saw you wouldn’t take his shit and you talked back...(he thought that was hot as fuck)

“Hey (y/n)-chan?” Midoriya asked from his seat, his half burnt journal out as he held a pen in his hand. His green eyes were wide as he looked you over before scribbling things down

Bakugou wasn’t saying anything and was pretending to be on his phone but he would look up every so often to see if you found Deku as annoying as he did

He was kinda bummed when he saw you didn’t

“What’s up Midoriya?” You asked back as Midoriya looked back up at you, loosing his train of thought when he saw the constellations in your eyes change and shooting stars in the purple-blue orbs when you blinked or got excited.

“C-can you make stars and planets and stuff?” He asked after a pause. This caught the explosive blonde’s attention as he watched you smile and nod.

“Yeah...do you want me to do it now?” Everyone nodded in response to your question, their eyes now focusing on you.

A mini galaxy began to appear above your hands, a small smile on your face as you looked at everyone’s excited and impressed faces.

“Woah! You’re really hot!” Mineta said, catching you off guard as your eyes widened and you cheeks became covered in stardust, a shooting star appearing above your head.

“T-thanks.” You grew even more flustered as some of the other boys agreed

Bakugou glared daggers at Mineta for breathing near you, so the fact that he talked to you was pissing him off even more

Mineta’s ass got BEAT after school and the next day Mineta wouldn’t even look at you

You caught the satisfied smirk on Bakugou’s face that he tried to hide when he saw Mineta practically piss his pants

“You know you could just talk to me...” You said from your seat behind Bakugou with a small laugh as Bakugou tried to hide his quickly reddening cheeks

He LOVES to talk about you and show you off, even if not a lot of people get to see you together because y’all are pro-heros

Will definitely talk everyone’s ears off when given the chance about how cool your galaxy quirk is and how strong and powerful you are to the point where some of his friends are convinced you aren’t real because they haven’t seen you together

No one questions him anymore after you joined him and his two interns on patrol when they spotted you after you had just finished your own patrol

“Excuse me.” You looked down when you felt a small tug at your belt, seeing a little girl with pigtails and warm brown eyes.

“Hi sweetheart.” You smiled widely at the girl as you kneeled to her level, noticing the doll of you in her arms and the small stars that were drawn on her cheeks.

“I wanna be just like you when I grow up! I already told my mommy!” The little girl told you excitedly as a woman who looks like the older version of the little girl in front of you smiles at you with a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“I think you’ll make a great hero one day.” You told her as her eyes seemed to shine in adoration. Her little hand touched the stars on your cheek as she mumbled about how pretty it was.

“Thank you.” You laughed lightly as the little girl blushed.

“I can make sunlight!” She explained after a moment, excitedly showing you her hands that formed the little ball of light.

“Watch this.” You smiled, putting your hands around hers as you made tiny planets and a mini galaxy around her little ball of light that looked like a sun.

“Woah!” The little girl excitedly jumped up and down before hugging you as her mother thanked you before the pair walked off. You stood turning when you felt eyes on you.

It was your boyfriend, Toyomitsu and his two interns who had been watching the little exchange with small smiles.

“Are these your interns!” You asked him excitedly as you pulled at his large hand, eyeing the two teenagers.

“Mmhmm.” He nodded proudly. “Isn’t she out of this world?” He asked to the boys with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes at his corny joke, but let out a small laugh. 

“Do you want to join us?”

“Of course! Toyomitsu literally doesn’t stop talking about you two! It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Really? He hasn’t stopped talking about you either.” Kirishima said as your starry purple and blue eyes looked from the redhead to your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. He just smiled at you, a soft pink covering his cheeks as he shrugged.

Flex tape is super into you from the moment he saw you, but he was too nervous to say anything to you in the beginning

He was convinced you would go for someone like him (which is stupid bc he’s so cute)...he was obviously wrong

Both you and Sero’s quirks have pretty practical applications, especially when you generated small suns and moons as light sources

The first time you generated a black hole kinda scared him tho...even if it was a small one

Once you convinced him that you had complete control over the black hole, he wasn’t so nervous about it anymore.

Definitely takes advantage of the black hole creation ability of your quirk now too

“Hey (y/n) can you come over?” Your boyfriend called you. This made you nervous because you thought something bad could’ve happened...like that one time Sero had accidentally gotten his tape stuck in a fan while it was accidentally stuck in his hair

“What happened? Did you start a fire? Was Denki involved? Is there another fan, because I can go get my scissors again!” You said quickly as you stood at his door in the dorms. 

You had rushed there so it had only taken you a moment to get there after he had hung up.

“Nope...no fire, Kaminari wasn’t involved, and there isn’t another fan incident...but I kinda broke the vacuum cleaner and there’s glitter all over my room.”

“Why is there glitter everywhere?” You looked from the mess all on the floor to your boyfriend who smiled sheepishly at you.

“Well, Kaminari thought it would be fun to do a prank...and the test kinda backfired...”

“I thought you said Kaminari wasn’t involved?”

“Uh-” He stopped when you held your hand up with a sigh.

“What am I supposed to do about this Hanta?”

“I was thinking that maybe you could use a black hole...since it’s kinda like a vacuum?”

“Fine.” You sighed after a pause in conversation, nodding once before you made a small black hole appear in your hand. Pointing it towards the floor you sucked up all of the glitter before making the black hole disappear again.

“I knew it would be faster than a vacuum!” Sero told you as he hugged and thanked you.

“Don’t be so messy next time...and maybe stay away from the glitter.” You laughed.

Keigo was kind of caught off guard when he first saw you.

He originally thought your quirk had just changed your appearance and that it was only creating stars, well until one day...

You see, the pair of you had moved in together and had also gotten a dog because why the hell not?

Anyways Keigo was supposed to be getting home any moment from patrol and since you had been off that day, you stayed home with your dog

“Did you have to ruin your toys so quickly? We just brought you this ball.” You complained to the small rambunctious animal who simple stared up at you with big brown eyes and a wag of its tail.

“Alright, let’s try this then.” You said after thinking for a moment. You created a small planet before throwing it down the hall. If your dog broke it, you could simply make a new one and it wouldn’t be a waste of money.

The dog happily chased after it before appearing a moment later with the small blue planet in its mouth. It put the sphere down at your feet, looking up at you and waiting for you to throw it again.

The door opened as you threw it down the hall again, Keigo walking into the house after just getting off. 

He set his goggles on the table by the door along with his special headphones, taking his gloves and jacket off at the door.

“I’m home, Birdie.” He called out as your dog ran towards him and dropped the strange new ball that he didn’t remember getting at his feet.

“I’m in here.”

“Weird.” The pro-hero mumbled before tossing the ball again and walking towards where your voice had come from.

“How was patrol?” You asked as your dog appeared again, the broken planet in front of him on the ground at your feet.

“It was fine...nothing major.” He answered simply, watching as you sighed giving a look to your dog before putting your hands together and making another small sphere, this time a purple color.

“Try not to break it so quickly this time.” You told the dog before tossing it.

“What was that?” He questioned as you looked at him confused. “When you put your hands together?” He clarified.

“Oh...did I forget to tell you? He broke his new ball, so I created a planet for him. I just figured it would be easier than buying him another toy that he’ll just end up destroying.” You shrugged.

“You can make planets?”

“Among other things.” You laughed softly at the surprised face he made. “I thought I told you.”

“No...but that’s cool as hell! What else can you do?” He asked, his eyes not leaving yours as he laid his head in your lap as you both sat on the couch with you explaining your quirk in depth.

Tags:

[keeperoftinyarmy]

I have a weird question for you lol I love Jimin and Jungkook's bond but I stopped suspecting they were dating a while ago just because some things they've said in passing that equal up to me coming the conclusion that they're just very close friends. I'm aware I could be wrong though. That is just my opinion but we all know opinions are just that, and are not facts. That said, when I've brought up my reasons for thinking they're just friends to other Jikookers, I'm met with a whole bunch of excuses and I just have to roll my eyes lol Do you think if Jungkook and Jimin come back from BTS's break and share they did not see each other while on break, do you think Jikookers would finally admit that they most likely not a couple? Because their last break, they did see each other and it's used a lot to make some kind of point The fact that V and Jungkook didn't see each other during their last break should've been a sign to Taekookers that their ship is just a close friendship/brotherhood but they chose to ignore that, or pretend they did see each other but were forced to keep that a secret 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 Now being in a long term relationship myself, we both have taken separate vacations but we saw each other lol Now working with a significant other is probably different but there's no way a couple could be in the same country and decide to not make time to see each other during an entire month at least once or twice unless they don't like each other very much lol If you live in a country that's spread out I get but SK is a bit smaller and easier to get to other towns. Anyway, you think that'd be enough to sway some people into thinking perhaps they were wrong or do you think a million excuses like "Me and my (husband, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, partner) once went an entire year not seeing each other and we were both in the same house!" would be spewed? Aside from all that, I truly hope all seven of them enjoy this break without getting sucked into some stupid fan caused dramatics aka "scandals"

Hi 😊

Not a weird question…I think at the heart of it is…if jikookers found out definitively that JM and JK are strictly platonic would we respect that or keep “shipping”. Am I right?

Here’s my thoughts…

I’m not someone that defines jikook’s relationship. I don’t feel like I know them well enough to form that sort of opinion. Things seem a certain way to me, but I could be wrong.

That being said JM and JK are clearly super close to each other. You don’t need shipper goggles to see it…they will basically show and tell you on the regular. I don’t know if that definitely means they are a couple, but I do think it means it’s highly unlikely they would go an entire break without seeing each other. It is possible though…they can text and video chat…and I’m willing to bet money they are doing that regularly.

This is not about shipping. This is about two guys that have told us they are close and spend lots of time together. I have seen no change (at all) in this level of closeness since 2017…I think before that you could argue they weren’t as close and perhaps have some valid points…but 2017 to present they are tight.

You mention TK in your comments…to me there is no comparison. Tae and JK have not displayed anything near the level of closeness that jikook have. TK just don’t have the same dynamic. Even if Jikook is platonic, they are clearly more closely connected to each other than TK are. So I find it hard to compare TK shippers to jikookers. We are working with two very different relationships.

I also think a large number of jikookers don’t consider themselves shippers…they are not actively wishing for jikook to be a couple. They are just drawn to their special bond. So I think a good many jikookers would change their stance on jikook being romantically involved if the guys came out and said “we are like cousins”, “we are just besties” and I know tons more would completely stop thinking about them in a romantic Sense if they came out and said “we don’t like to be shipped with each other…we are uncomfortable”.

Stating they didn’t see each other over the holiday however, I don’t think is a reason to refute all the things they said and done the past almost 10 years. Especially when we know they just flew back together and prior to that they revealed they were always together in LA. And before that we knew they spent tons of time together in Korea….

[evolutionsvoid]

Whenever I meet other travelers, one of the common questions I get is "Hey, Chlora, I am going to         place, what are some cool creatures I should keep an eye out for?" Though I say it is a frequent question, I always enjoy answering it! To hear people excited about seeing new species and strange beasts always makes me happy! So if you are ever traveling to some unfamiliar region and run into me along the way, never hesitate to ask! I am always eager to lend my knowledge and help others experience the majesty of the world! I have been informed, however, that I should give a warning with this offer. Apparently I tend to prattle on for long periods of time whenever I get this question, which some think is a bit much. I honestly don't understand what they are taking about, I am just answering a legitimate inquiry, but nonetheless I bring up this odd point. The reason I am talking about this is because the species I am focusing on here would be on the list for any folk visiting the desert or nearby spiny forests. If you are in the right area, I honestly don't need to focus your attention on locating these creatures, because they are pretty hard to miss! Despite the scaly, plated look, Crystalhorns are indeed mammals. Many are quick to call them reptiles, but if you really look at their frame and gait, you can see they are not. Believe it or not, they are ungulates, who dwell in arid places that possess lots of juicy plants! Of all the desert places, the best for them are spiny forests, as they provide a surplus of such vegetation! Their bodies are well adapted to living in such harsh environments, with their blood and organs specialized in retaining water. They can drink large quantities of water with ease, and then live off of those stores for days on end! Their "scales" also aid in survival, and not just for armor! The first thing to note is that these "scales" are made from a special material that is like keratin and chitin. Honestly, it is kind of a mix of both! These hard growths are not just translucent, but also reflective! They have a distinct shine to them, which causes people to compare them with crystal. The shininess of these plates aid in protection against the sun, as it reflects the harsh rays and helps get rid of some of that heat! They also can withstand the nasty thorns and spikes that are found everywhere in spiny forests, allowing the Crystalhorn to blunder through razor bushes with ease! Underneath those plates is a super thick hide for extra protection, sitting upon beds of stored fat for periods of famine. Wide feet help disperse its bulk so it doesn't sink into the sand, and special eyelids and lashes keep pesky grains from getting into their eyes. They are quite at home in these arid areas, and their sheer size and strength means they have very little to worry about! Due to this armor and their powerful bulk, full grown Crystalhorns have no real predators. I mean, what on earth is going to challenge that? Even if it wasn't for that huge gorgeous horn, you won't find a whole lot of carnivores with the weaponry to pierce that armor! Not to mention it is hard to get a good lock on them, as when the sun hits them they practically explode with light! When annoyed by a gawker or some prowling creature, they will purposefully shift their bulk so that the sun reflects right into the enemy's face. For those who want to appreciate their majesty, a pair of tinted goggles is pretty much a must! This light reflection helps throw off foes, but it is also used for eating! Crystalhorns are herbivorous, feeding on cacti and other succulents. A tough mouth and bony pads help them deal with the mess of needles and thorns, but sometimes a meal is just too irritating to eat! A lot of plants have painful hairs on them that dig into the inside of your mouth or scratch up your throat. To deal with this, the Crystalhorn uses its titular horn in a bizarre and fascinating way! Somehow, the structure of this horn is arranged so that it can take in light and focus it. By aiming and tilting it just right, the beast can focus the sunlight into a hot potent beam! Using the sun just so, it can point this concentrated light and fry the offending plant. In short time, the vegetation will begin to burn, searing off those irritating hairs! Once the top layer is scorched, the Crystalhorn will uses its feet to stomp it out and then feed on the remains. It isn't the most polite way to eat, but it gives them access to more food! It is truly bizarre that these horns are grown in such a way to allow such a thing to happen, but it is a common method for these beasts! They have even been seen rubbing these horns against tree trunks and rocks to help keep it in just the right shape! While this behavior is common, it is one that needs to be taught. Adults have been seen helping youngsters who struggle with using their horns properly, demonstrating for them and prodding their heads so they are at the right angle. When the young use their horns, adults keep close by ,not just for teaching, but to stamp out unintended fires. It makes you wonder if some brush fires have been caused by a bumbling Crystalhorn that scorched something a little too well. With their large size and beautiful crystal "scales," this species is rather popular. I think every zoo I have ever visited have one of these, because how could you not? They have been called the "Jewel of the Desert," which is easy to see when their hide hits the sun just right. There is even a type of greenish crystal out there that has been named after this species! How weird, to be an actual crystal named after something that is pretending to be! This beauty, however, comes at a price. Their crystal horn and "scales" are prized by collectors for their jewel-like qualities. There are many pieces of jewelry and fancy adornments that are made from these plates, carved and shaped to show off their splendor. I am pretty sure I have seen necklaces made from these at every ball or gala I have been forced to attend. To make matters worse, mages and other magic users have found an interest in this species. Their crystalline hide is said to be a valuable material for staffs, staves, wands and catalysts. Even when ground to a powder, it has many uses for potions and spells. Even practitioners of Thericorium use this powder for their paints and tattoos, as a majestic hide of crystal scales is impossible to pass up. With such a huge market, poaching is a massive threat to this species. Toppling one of these beasts and stripping its body of these plates and horn can net a smart seller thousands, so obviously many money-hungry fiends have their sights on them. It is to the point where I hesitate to even tell others good locations to observe Crystalhorns, as that info may reach the wrong ears and that land will be pillaged. I have heard there are efforts to domesticate and sustainably harvest these materials, but I already know this won't work. It takes decades for them to grow to their full potential and the ravenous market won't be so patient. For now, the only hope for this species is the continued effort of locals and conservation groups. They keep an eye out for poachers and take them out before they can cause harm. Even the zoos I mentioned before have started breeding programs to help keep this species alive! And don't worry, fellow reader, I too have done my part! During my studies, I found evidence of poachers in the area and did the responsible thing of reporting them! Well, that was after I "accidentally" knocked a Spire Cactus on top of their hiding place. Honestly, they should have been grateful I was there! I rushed off immediately to find locals so that they could come and help! I am thoughtful like that!               Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------------ Here is a species that was brought up in a previous entry (and was drawn around that time, I am just slow at posting). As one can see, I tried to do a background but then absolutely gave up.  Sorry folks, I just couldn't figure it out, so here is what I got.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Aren’t You Curious?

First part of a mini series I wanted to do for @hurtled-into-chaos-you-fight ! Introducing: Caustic horny for both the Bloodhounds!

Summary: Curious. Such a simple word and yet so immeasurable with its extent. It could mean numerous things. Curiosity is what led to many fantastic discoveries. Many invaluable experiments and documentations. And yet. What did ‘curious’ mean to Alexander as of recent? The Bloodhounds. Or: In which Caustic catches one of the Bloodhounds jerking off in the dropship and can't help but sneak a peek. Not that they mind the attention either...

!!!Minors DNI, this is adult content and it makes me v uncomfortable for you to interact. Plz respect my boundaries!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Bloodhound - Caustic/Bloodhound

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound (Rune) has a dick, Sprite’s Bloodhound headcanons and my own mentioned, voyeurism, just Caustic and his good ole right hand, Caustic is also turned on by violence and this is mentioned

Words: 3k

__________________

Curious. 

Such a simple word and yet so immeasurable with its extent. It could mean numerous things. Curiosity is what led to many fantastic discoveries. Many invaluable experiments and documentations. And yet. What did ‘curious’ mean to Alexander as of recent? 

The Bloodhounds. 

Fascinating couple they were. They participated in this blood-sport as one, despite if they had to shed blood of their significant other in the process. Hound was the smaller of five foot or shorter and arguably deadlier of the two. Quieter and willing to snarl in your face in a low tone no matter how big you were in comparison. 

Alexander had been on the other end of that hatchet numerous times, his chin tilted upwards and their red goggled gaze seeming to burn into his soul as they’d hum out. “You think yourself worthy of my ammunition, Doctor? Do not think so highly of yourself.” 

Before the blade would cut in and the medical bay is where he’d awaken in cold sweat and in need of a shower with a slight adjustment to the front of his pants and a grunt in his voice.

~Rest under the cut~

Then there was the other of the Bloodhounds, Rune. Towering over even Alexander, they stood at 7’4” and gave him a chance to feel small in someone else’s presence for once. Rune was a curiosity in themself as well, always sticking near the smaller of the couple and becoming more playful around them and the other legends they liked. Alexander had seen them in battle and also had been an...active participant in their bloodshed. 

They were blood thirsty, always seeking out battle and preferring close combat where they could sink their serrated teeth into you instead of a gun. 

Rune was more vulgar than their quietly taunting spouse, always taking to stalking Alexander back until he hit a wall with a hand removing their respirator just so Alexander could see their full lips tug into a wide grin full of serrated teeth. “Oh, Doctor,” They’d begin with their low voice curling in his ears. 

“How I can taste your heart pounding. From fear or-” They’d reach him by then, twisting fingers into his gear and yanking his clothing so he’d have to lean up to them and feel their snarling breath over his own mask. “-something more pathetic?” 

He’d awake in the med bay the same way, in need of a shower, adjusting the front of his pants, and in need to slow his heart beat from the very same guessed thing of ‘something more pathetic ’. 

The Bloodhounds were a curiosity, separated only in the arena visually by their heights and the differences in patches and charms on them. Hound having a wolf patch, Rune having a raven. Hound having a moon charm on their weaponry, Rune having a sun- a call back to their preferred pet names to one another. 

Otherwise, their uniforms were identical, and even that clever Giant could mimic Hound’s voice to perfection to even fool teammates, enemy squads, or the audio over the feed that people watched from home and in bars. 

These findings were all, of course, written within the confines of Alexander’s notes in a journal. Keeping tallies on both allies and people who could become enemies was merely part of his own protocol. It made working with people easier, and finding yourself in the grips of someone you once called ‘ally’- it made exploiting their weaknesses much easier. 

Of course, this is what he tells himself at night when his mind wanders and he presses his soft thighs together and clears his throat. Glasses perched on the bridge of his freckled nose and his eyes wandering over their pages, feeling a stirring in his stomach. Seems he was not one of the lucky people who were unaffected by the duo. 

Even the brief sketches and outlines filling the pages of his ‘The Bloodhounds’ sections would prove where his interests lied within them. Their hatchets drawn out, their preferred charms and patches. Even notes regarding their most spoken words in the Old Norse and Icelandic tongues that they spoke, carefully translated so he could observe their conversations more closely. 

The more recent page had yet to be fully filled out, however. On to where that pesky smaller bloodhound had gone off to. 

It just seemed one day Hound had just left, leaving Rune behind to carry the mantel of what Alexander was certain was an act of worship of participation and bloodshed. This had been about a month ago, and no matter how much snooping he did, there seemed to be no answer. Perhaps an injury? Duty to take care of back home? 

Either way, the Syndicate didn’t care. As long as a singular Bloodhound remained to cause familiar bloodshed, then there was no need to fear. And Rune certainly performed just as terrifyingly as they had done before. Even without Hound to face nor be at their side. 

But there was a new thing added to their daily mannerism now that Hound was no longer in the compound. 

Phone calls. 

It seemed simple, really, Alexander supposed it made sense to want to hear your long-time partner’s voice every day when you had not been separated in a long time. He couldn’t hear the conversation occurring, the drop ship’s walls being thick enough to provide that much privacy. Even if they were made of glass, most of the legends had taken to using blankets or netting to cover the glass to provide more privacy when they were on their few days of journey to the battle grounds. 

The Bloodhounds had taken to putting up netting on either side, making it hard to see through, but not impossible. Alexander’s desk was pressed to their wall, and most times he would consider himself to be a good roommate by not snooping into their business. 

Or at least, pretending he wasn’t. 

Like now. Where he was very much not snooping and most definitely just writing in his journal. Not at all peeking over occasionally over his glasses as he pretended to reach to the side to grab a different pen or pencil. 

That would just be asinine. 

It’s not that he meant to direct his attention off his journal, it’s just that he kept seeing movement through the netting and it was distracting. Where dark amber hair keeps shifting in one specific spot and the flash of flesh and tattoos keeps catching his eye. Though he can’t make out what they’re saying exactly, the walls only muffing them so much. He is still able to hear the deep sound of their natural voice and the growl to each purr seeming to rattle the very walls around them. 

Alexander slumps a bit in his seat, lifting his eyes and noting he can see perfectly through the hole of the net to see half of Rune’s body. 

Rune’s... 

Very. 

Very. 

Almost naked body. 

With only a mesh shirt lifted up to expose what Alexander could see of their abdomen, his eyes wander down to where he can see everything from abdomen to their knees. Where they’re exposed. A strong hand wrapped around their tattooed and, frankly, large cock. Stroking it in a slow, methodical way. Their hips rolling back unsteadily on the hammock in a way he can only imagine was them fucking themself onto something. 

Suddenly Alexander realizes why the hums of their voice through the wall make more sense as to why they were so well timed. Moans and words- possibly filthy words being spoken to their partner through the phone. A phone that Alexander can see if he subtly tilts his body downwards and looking up towards their body through the mesh of the net. 

The phone is tucked against their shoulder and ear, and he can only imagine their blissed expression. Alexander can only just see how their sharp teeth bite into their full lower lip briefly, a light part of them in a soundless gasp and smirk of their lips before forming words he cannot hear but can imagine. 

Privacy, Alexander chides himself as he sits up straight. 

He tries to focus back on his journal instead, recapping the events that happened within Olympus’ grounds. He’d had the pleasure of being in a duo match with Bloodhound- or rather, Rune, who sat in the room just in front of him. He learned an interesting weakness of heights that day. However, he also had learned that in order to get the Giant down from a high location they had accidentally landed during drop- proved to be quite difficult.  

It took coaxing and a promise that he stuck to for once, gripping their hand and helping them down. Alexander’s cheeks flush when he recaps the way their hand had clapped his shoulder with a low laugh in their chest of, “Thank you, Doctor. I shall spare your humiliation the next time we cross weapons. Unless, of course, you find it to be more rewarding that I do humiliate you?” 

He grunts to himself, rolling his neck to try and make the thoughts vanish of just how those damned Bloodhounds had humiliated him in the ring time and time again. He always got vengeance, of course, but that didn’t stop the swelling in his pants at the images of the both of them flashing behind his eyelids. 

Hound was crueler, especially if they had a score to settle. But Rune’s sheer size always made Alexander feel small, even when he was just backed into a corner by them. Either way, they both had him feeling more than a little something stirring within him. 

Alexander grunts again, a hand squeezing between his legs to try and soothe the ache that had started. Normally he had a tough time getting hard, but it appears today would not be one of those days. A mild hindrance, but nothing that would provide too elephantine of an issue. 

Just perhaps...mild discomfort, he thinks as he adjusts in his chair with a clear of his throat and a tug around the collar of his button up. 

He rests his cheek on his fist, elbow on the desk and feeling depraved as his other gives another squeeze to his cock through his trousers. He was like any other human, he had needs, just needs he never felt the desire to act upon often. Plenty of people here ready to catch you off guard. 

Alexander doesn’t mean for his thoughts to trail off, daydreaming felt so platitudinous. Overdone, undesired, and unneeded. Especially for a man of science, such as himself, who relied on realistic limitations. 

But...perhaps he could indulge. 

Just this once. 

His mind was both his biggest help and biggest weapon. He’d seen the Bloodhounds without their helmets before on the times they’d rarely join a party and he would follow. Hound preferred sporting a lower mask, a respirator of demonic likeness he had assumed in the case of colder climates, but for the most part he could see them. And what a sight they were. 

Worthy to the godly and royal pet names that their spouse referred to them as. 

Rune, on the other hand, liked the attention, Alexander assumed. Judging by their more beguiling and eye-catching attire. Mesh shirts, long dark gowns with sparkling sleeves, or too tight of pants with a left open button up. They certainly liked when people would look over too often, flushed to their chests and drinking a little too heavily in the hopes of liquid courage. 

Of course, that liquid courage would quickly be shot down if Hound didn’t like your approach, sometimes a snarl ricocheting off the walls of Witt’s bar and sending a pleasant shiver down Alexander’s spine. And fear through others. 

Rune’s taunting voice lingers in his mind as his mind begins to swirl up arousing ideas. 

He pictures them standing, taunting him and daring to lean down into his face to get close and taunt him, their breath spilling over his lips. He imagines smashing his lips to theirs, drinking in their taunting laugh as he’d spin them around in the bar’s bathroom. The hurry to yank down their pants and to see that perky, muscular ass he’s sure is covered in tattoos much like the rest of their body. 

Would they growl or moan if he dragged his tongue along their cock? Would they curl their fingers in his hair or would they grip the sink behind them and allow him to taste them? So many questions for a simple fantasy, one that his mind helpfully supplies as he fishes his cock out of his trousers to start stroking in real time. 

The fantasy continues, sinking his fingers into their ass and hearing them practically purr for him. Able to feel them clench around his lubricated fingers and imagining just how tight they’d be. The older dog laughing breathily down at him, taunting him and using that voice to their advantage. Asking when he became such a whore. And if they knew he had such a mouth on him, they would have used him long ago rather than making quick work of him in the ring. Other ways of humiliating the doctor. 

Alexander’s breath catches, the hand on his cheek sliding to cover his mouth instead as his brows furrow and his hand jerks himself off with a harsher squeeze. His hand sliding down to squeeze at his heavy balls and gliding his fingers back up to grip himself roughly. 

He imagines them gasping as he’d whip them around and fuck them from behind. Their breathy, low laughter rumbling in his chest as he’d fuck them from behind. A hand grabbing their jaw and tipping their head to the side as they’d smirk at him and croon between growls, “Enjoy your last show, Doctor? ” Only to be broken up by the sound of their low groan when he’d thrust into them to the hilt and press on their hips to drag them back with a snarl. 

He’d want to bruise them, mark them as best as he could. Whether to prove a point or maybe to rile up their spouse that he knew would tear him apart if given the opportunity. 

Their earthy scent would plague his nose as he’d bury himself to the hilt inside of them, biting into their shoulder when he came into them and hearing them pant and huff in his ear in turn. Just like the dog their title claimed they were. Being bred by him. 

He imagines how they’d cling to his arms, digging their nails into his pale flesh and making him grunt from the pain as he tells them to take it  as they howl. Releasing their own cum all over the sink. 

Alexander’s eyes are blurry as he flutters them back open, his heart pounding and his hand covered in cum. His cock gives dull throbs in time with his heart beat, met with a shaky exhale as he reaches on his desk to grab a tissue to clean up the mess. Feeling a bit filthier than he had before, but feeling less pent up. 

When his heart finally settles down, Alexander clears his throat, using a wet wipe to clean off his hands and remove any further evidence. He grabs his pen to go back to his journaling, even with his flushed face as he tries to not recap on what just happened. Flashes behind his eyes when he closes them briefly to try and take a breath and steady himself. 

A knock on the glass in front of him makes him jump, looking upwards to see the net pulled back and Rune standing there with only pants hanging low around their hips and a smirk on their lips. Their head is tilted, their eyes calculating as if Alexander were looking at an inconsequential little experiment running a maze and unable to get out. 

Locked in the eyes of a predator. 

Their smirk transforms into a cockier look when they seem to take in Alexander’s flushed and disheveled look, only making him furrow his brow and try to play it off as if nothing was amiss. He gives them a questioning look, but watches as their lips spread into a predatory grin of sharp shark-like teeth and their red gaze flickering down towards his lap. 

Alexander follows the gaze to where his cock is still out of his trousers. Burning red to his ears as he rushes to tuck himself away and hearing the muffled laugh of Rune from behind the glass from them being so close to it. Alexander refuses to look up from their journal, his head bowed and feeling humiliated. 

He could weep at the fact his dick gives another harsh jerk at the debauched feeling. 

When he finally braves himself enough to look up, Rune gives him a wink before they let the netting fall back down. Walking back to their resting area of the hammock and leaving Alexander to sit there in his aroused shame, and only feeling more aroused by the second at being caught. 

When he finally decides to rest for the night, Alexander can’t help but wonder what is to become of him from the smaller of the Bloodhounds. If they even snarled at a drunken bystander trying to flirt with their spouse, what would they do when the knowledge that Rune was being watched would surely reach them? 

There was no way they didn’t tell each other everything. 

Alexander groans aloud when his cock twitches again at the thought of a knife to his throat and harsh words snarled to him from the smaller of the couple. How they’d probably step on his cock in the middle of the ring, call him filthy and disgusting for indulging in something so sinful as voyeurism- 

He runs a hand over his face, reaching over and turning off his lamp and feeling just as filthy as earlier as he reaches under the sheets with new fantasies arising in his mind. 

This time entailing both the Bloodhounds. Plenty of snarling, plenty of hungry hands squeezing him and depriving him of air. 

Curious indeed. 

[lu-undy]

Request #5

"Mundy goes to the pool on a hot day and a certain someone catches his eye, and that certain someone is eating an ice cream veeeery suggestively." Here it is!

"Hey, Snipes! Come and have a swim!" 

The Aussie grumbled from his plastic lounging chair.

It was a day off for the mercenaries and it was one of those days where a pool would do everyone some good. Luckily enough, that was where all the mercenaries were, in a pool! Of course the Administrator wasn't ready to privatise the place for them so there were other people around and in the pool itself.

Sniper was lazily lying on a chair, his hat on his face, somewhere between asleep and awake. Relaxing. He was just taking a break off work and let his mind swim free, as his skin sizzled under the sun. 

He thought about the previous days of battles, what he did, what he could have done better - being a professional doesn't mean being perfect. The background noises of people's chatter and lapping sounds of the water provided him the perfect acoustic space for his thoughts to fly free. 

It obviously smelt of chlorine but sometimes, as someone passed in front of him, Sniper would pick up a faint smell of sunscreen or even sometimes their perfume. It would mostly happen with women, rarely with men. 

Sniper took a deep breath and decided to look around. He pushed the hat away from his face and rubbed his face and eyes, before opening his eyelids. Thank God for his sunglasses, the white pool reflected the light like aluminium itself…! 

The Aussie looked down at himself as he put his hat back on his head, and he adjusted his posture on his seat. Yeah, the sun was starting to leave its print on him as he could see down his navy blue, Australia flag, swimming shorts that a tan line started to appear. 

"Hm." He nodded to himself and crossed his hands on his chest. He took the beer that was on the floor next to him, in the shadow of his chair and took a few lazy sips, just to wet his lips. 

Sniper let his eyes scan the crowd, in the pool first. Most of his colleagues were there. Soldier, Demoman, Scout, Pyro and Engineer, without his goggles for once. They seemed to enjoy their time greatly in the water. Soldier even seemed to have made friends with the children there, while of course being supervised by Demoman.

"What is this, private?" He asked, holding a ball in his hand. 

"A ball, Sir!" The kids answered. 

"No, you maggots! This is a cannon ball and you must use it to destroy your enemies! Do you understand this?!"

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" The kids answered, saluting.

"And who are the enemies?!"

"Commies, Sir!" 

"Soldier, mate, this is-" 

"Shush! Demoman! We need to educate the young ones! These are the defenses for tomorrow's America! And by God, I won't let an Englishman with a dress stop this!" Soldier turned to the kids. "See, privates? These are the kinds of threats to America! And what do we do when we see a threat to America?" 

"We attack, Sir!" The kids shouted back. 

"Yeeeeah!" Soldier answered. "Now let's attaaaack!"

"But… Sir?" A little kid was raising his hand. 

"Yes, private?" 

"You told us to raise our shovels and attack but we have no shovels here. Does that mean we will lose?" The poor little child asked, distraught.

"Listen, son. A fine soldier doesn't need shovels to fight. Who needs shovels, weapons or college-taught strategies when you love the stars and stripes?! I have crapped losses worse than that and look at you! Your simple existence is proof that we will win. As long as America exists, we will win! Do you understand, private?

"Uh… No, I don't really-"

"Then ATTAAACK!"

The children didn't hesitate and started chasing Demoman down in the pool.

Sniper rolled his eyes with a smile, behind his aviator glasses. His eyes then swept across the chairs around the pool. Ah, there were Medic and Heavy, sitting side and by side and chatting with a beer in their hands. Good for them. 

The rest of the crowd was made of strangers, men, women and children. 

"Ice cream?" 

Sniper's head swooshed to whoever was talking to him. It was a man who seemed to sell different kinds of ice-creams. 

"Nah, thanks, mate." 

The man nodded and pushed his little-trolley stand along. Sniper's eyes followed him for a while until his mind realised that something was wrong. 

Where was Spy? 

The Aussie looked in the pool again but no one was wearing a mask. His eyes then snapped to the crowd but again, no one around the pool was wearing a mask. And he knew Spy wouldn't remove it. Last time they had gone to the beach, he had kept it all along, under the parasol. 

Ha, now that he thought back about it, Sniper smiled. It had been a more pleasant experience than he had anticipated. He had ended up sharing most of his afternoon with Spy, chatting about anything, surprisingly enough. They had gone through wildly different topics from food, drinks, with a long bit about wines and beers, which then led to gardening of all things and childhood souvenirs of stealing fruits in neighbours' gardens…

Yeah, it had been nice, Sniper thought, and he certainly hadn't expected the Frenchman to be that talkative. Of course, on a scale from Administrator-talkative, to Scout-talkative, Spy was closer to the former. But his inputs in the discussion captured Sniper's interest and tickled his curiosity. He also discovered that Spy was as good at answering as he was at listening. He could fall silent and absorb whatever Sniper would say with keen attention. 

Shame he wasn't anywhere near. A cold beer, the sun and a good chat were a great combo for Sniper's morale. But he shall do without the good chat… 

His gaze went back to the ice-cream vendor and he saw a man buy one before leaning back on his chair. He was sitting at the opposite end of the pool, almost exactly face to face with Sniper. The man had paler skin than Sniper's and was wearing a pair of black sunglasses. 

What caught Sniper's eyes was the ridiculous speedos that he was wearing, dark blue, with a little logo that the Aussie couldn't see from where he was. Speedos… Who the hell wore those? Well apparently that mad guy did. 

Sniper squinted and stared. To be honest, that man could afford it and it did his body a few favors… He had a lean chest with what looked like salt and pepper chest hair, a stomach thinner than Sniper's, and he could clearly see a sharply drawn V-line diving to the swim wear. He gulped and his eyes moved back up. 

He had short, salt and pepper hair too. A lighter lock at the front, above his forehead and on his temples. The rest was black. Sniper couldn't say much apart from the fact that he looked quite handsome and his posture on the chair clearly showed that he knew it. 

Slim and elegant bastard even with speedos… 

Sniper watched as a group of women passed him, he lowered his sunglasses and winked at them. They chuckled and covered their mouths with their hands. 

What a bastard… Didn't have more to do than a wink to get a sheila.

They walked away and the man pushed his glasses up, resting them on his head, through his hair before starting to savour his ice-cream. By the colour of it, it must have been vanilla, or lemon, something white-ish.

Sniper stared longer as the man raised his eyes in his direction and started licking the ice-cream. 

The Aussie gulped. 

Was he looking at him, straight? How did he know that Sniper was watching him at that distance and with the yellow aviators hiding his eyes…?

Gosh, was he really-?

The man stuck his tongue out and lasciviously dragged it along the white, cold ice-cream, all while maintaining eye-contact with him?

What the hell does he want? How does he know that-? Oh, God…

Now, he was licking the cone from the side all the way up and a vicious smirk appeared on his lips. 

Sniper looked left and right. The seats next to him were empty. Ah, yeah, he had chosen that spot both because it was in the sun and also precisely because no one was there… Ah… He removed his hat and fanned himself with it. 

Meanwhile, the man with the light blue eyes staring at him continued his show and licked his ice-cream, cocking an eyebrow before taking it in his mouth and pulling the creamy snack into a cone shape. His lips were covered in white which he promptly licked, and Sniper's guts flipped inside himself. He quickly looked at his shorts and it started to show...

Bugger… He sweated and gritted his teeth.

Sniper slammed his hat on his lap to hide what his body betrayed. And breathed deep. 

C'mon, he couldn't be doing that to him, could he? But there was no one around and - oh, bloody hell, oh God damnit… 

Still with a smirk on his lips, the man stood up and let the sunglasses fall on his eyes. He went on licking the God forsaken ice cream as he walked around the pool. Sniper’s body temperature rose sharply. He didn’t know if he preferred the man to come to him or pass him and not even give him a look.

Sniper’s eyes were stuck, his heart was pounding in his chest and he tried to bury himself in his chair as deep as he could. The silhouette of the man kept on getting bigger and bigger. Sniper closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He counted the time and pricked his ears to better hear the footsteps. He heard it stop and he heard the wicker of the chair next to him creak.

Sniper’s eyebrows twitched as he kept pretending he was asleep.

“Good choice of beer.”

The Aussie’s eye snapped open as he recognised the voice with the French accent. He looked around him, Spy was nowhere to be seen.

“And no need to pretend you are asleep, Bushman. A child would fake it better than you do.”

Sniper’s jaw dropped. The man next to him, with the bottle of beer that Sniper had been drinking from in his hand, was that the man who had just spoken?

“Here, some ice-cream could do you some good.” He handed him the ice cream and astounded as he was, Sniper held it in his hand, absent-mindedly.

“Is that you?” Sniper asked as the man on the lounging chair next to him lay completely down and put the bottle to his lips again, taking a sip.

“Who do you mean?” He grinned smugly.

“Bloody hell, it is! What happened to your mask? What the…?”

“And what happened to your hat?” Spy asked, smirking behind his black sunglasses. “Why is it not on your head? The sun might get to your pale skin, Bushman.” He said in irony. 

"Holy dooley, Spook you-you scared the hell out of me! I thought it was a random bloke starin' at me with his ice-cream."

"So you are reassured that it is in fact, me?" Spy asked. "Oh, be careful, the ice cream is melting."

Sniper looked in his hand and realised that indeed it was flowing on the cone. He stuck his tongue out and licked it before he stopped sharp and realised what he was doing. 

"Hold on, that's your ice cream and my beer." 

"Well, I guess we will have to avoid telling Soldier that we share them. With his allergy to communism, he might be angry at us both."

"What're you doin'?" Sniper gave him back his ice-cream and took his beer from Spy's hand. "And d'you have an idea how you were eatin' that ice-cream? I could see you all the way from here, 's not decent, Spy." 

"You should have seen at what speed you turned crimson. Besides, which is not decent? My eating of this ice-cream or your covering yourself with your hat?" 

Sniper grumbled and frowned. 

"Come on, Sniper. It was all done in good fun." 

"Ice-cream?" The vendor was back. 

"Oui, please, for my grumpy friend."

Sniper exhaled from his nostrils like an angry bull.

"What flavour?" 

“Something different from mine, please.”

Spy paid for it and the ice-cream man left the two colleagues alone.

“Here, to cool you down.”

Sniper turned his head and saw the Frenchman handing him the cone. He sighed and accepted it.

“You are welcome, Sniper.”

“Mh.” The grumble was the only answer that Spy received. 

Both of them stayed mute for a while. They finished their ice creams while watching people come and go. The families with children were the first to leave, when the kids were tired out and hungry. A group of women came to pass by. Sniper watched his colleague from the corner of his eyes.

“Mesdames...”  He pulled down his sunglasses and slid one leg on the other. The ladies in question blushed and chuckled at the French womanizer.

[Ladies...]

Sniper rolled his eyes and looked away. 

About half an hour later, Scout came to him.

“Yo, Snipes, uh, Engie sent me to tell you we were off, you comin’?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, ok… Uh, have you seen Spy? We’ve been lookin’ for him but no one’s seen him for ages.”

Spy, who was right next to Sniper, listened carefully.

“Don’t worry about him.”

“Well, Engie’s kinda worried cause-”

“I said: don’t worry about him.”

Scout had obviously felt the animosity in Sniper. He nodded and left him in peace. Soon after, a lifeguard came to both men.

“We are about to close, gentlemen.”

“Ah, I wanted to ask you something, if I may.” Spy stood up and walked with the lifeguard, away from Sniper, along the pool. When he came back, the lights in the building were switching off, leaving only the ones in the pool itself.

Sniper stood up and collected his empty bottle. 

“Where are you going?”

“You heard the guy, they’re closing.”

“Oui, they are.” Spy resumed his seat and lay back as comfortably as before, if not more. He removed his sunglasses from his nose and put them aside. 

Sniper started walking away and stopped sharp. He turned to Spy and sighed. 

“Aren’t you gonna get out?”

“Non.”

“Spy, they’re gonna kick you out.”

“Non, they will not.”

“C’mon, stop bein’ an arse and come along.”

“Take a seat.” Spy invited his colleague and Sniper obeyed, not without rolling his eyes to the sky. 

“Now they’re gonna kick us both.”

“Non, they will not.” Spy insisted.

“Yeah, they will, you heard the lifeguard guy.”

“I did, and proceeded to convince him to leave me the keys.”

“What?”

“You heard me. There is only you and me here. Now, relax please, and let us enjoy one of those conversations. I believe we were left with you telling me about your neighbours’ apricots and how you used to steal them when you were a child.”

“Spy.” Sniper was much more serious than his colleague.

“Oui?”

The only noises around them were the lapping of the water as it flowed to the filtering pumps, rumbling away.

“Why did you do what you did with your ice-cream?”

“Because I had my doubts.” Spy answered.

“About what?”

“It does not matter, I am now sure.”

The air cooled down as the night progressed.

“Sure of what? What did you want to know? You could’ve just asked.” Sniper lay back and crossed his arms on his chest. 

Spy stood up and walked to the edge of the pool. He dipped a toe, then two and slightly nodded before taking a little step back, raising his arms, joining his hands and elegantly dived in. Sniper’s eyes never left the silhouette of the slim man who now surfaced again, fluidly breaking the surface tension of the water. Spy wiped the water away from his face, and carded his wet hair back, he was beautifully lit by the turquoise water.

“Come on, join me.” Spy gestured to Sniper. “The water is deliciously warm.”

“Tell me first. What did you wanna know?”

Spy moved to the edge of the swimming-pool and crossed his arms that he rested at the edge of it. 

“I was wondering if, perchance, you were cursed similarly to me.”

Sniper walked to the edge of the pool and sat down, his legs in the water up to his knees.

“What d’you mean?”

The Frenchman held his hand out and Sniper stared at it, before his eyes rose to Spy’s irises. He could see the waving patterns of the water on his already light blue eyes. Sniper raised his hand and it floated above Spy’s for an instant before he dropped it in it. The Frenchman nodded in thanks and Sniper entered the pool fully. He dived in and when he surfaced again, he opened his eyes to the sight of Spy looking up to him. He blushed.

“What did you mean, Spook?”

Spy gave a lopsided grin. 

“The way you stared and blushed while I was having my ice-cream.” Spy started. “And then, your covering of your lap. I was asking a question and your body answered without your lips having to.”

Sniper’s cheeks and ears burnt. He frowned and walked back to the edge of the pool.

“So what now, hm? Gonna use that against me? Gonna blackmail me or something? I don’t have anythin’ to lose.” Sniper gave his back to Spy, the water reached his hips. He put his hands left and right and his fingers were grasping the edge of the pool hard.

“Non.” 

Sniper’s eyes snapped wide and his pupils retracted to a dot. He looked down and two arms were laced around him. He could also feel the warmth of Spy’s body leaning against him from behind. Spy was… hugging him?

“I would never.” Spy added and Sniper was now sure. He felt his voice resonate through himself. Spy was resting his head against Sniper’s upper back.

“Spy… I… Hm.” Sniper closed his eyes and took that leap of faith. That mad jump, that reaction that no one expected of him, not even himself. He frowned and raised his hands to  hold Spy’s forearms.

“I just wanted to know, if by any stroke of luck, you too felt… comfortable when we were sharing conversations, if you too felt like you wanted more of these discussions, if you too wanted to see me again, soon perhaps?”

“O’course I did.” Sniper answered in a sigh, a hoarse whisper of his voice.

Both were whispering despite nobody else being around to hear them. Sniper turned to face Spy and the Frenchman raised round, kitten-like eyes to him, with a faint smile, but his eyebrows were asking a question, the question that his lips were trembling to ask, but couldn’t. Sniper was simply seized by the view. So that was what Spy looked like under the mask? Yeah, gorgeous and a half, eh. Only man on Earth who could wear a pair of speedos and not look like a mongrel.

Sniper’s hands found Spy’s sides without looking anywhere else but in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled his naked and wet frame against his own.

“Course, I did.” He repeated before bending his head down for his lips to be in front of Spy’s ear. “You arrogant, posh, unbearable idiot.” Sniper had one hand on Spy’s hair and another on his lower back. “You… You’re gorgeous with and without the mask.”

Spy’s eyes shone brighter and he smiled.

“Merci.” He chuckled. “So do you, but I must admit that I prefer you without the glasses or the hat. It feels more… intimate.”

“Yeah, same without yer mask, eh.” Sniper smiled. “Feels special.”

“By the way, thank you for what you said to Scout.” Spy said.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really know what to say.”

“Still, you did not tell him that I was there next to you. I appreciate your discretion.”

“You’re welcome… C-Can I…?” Sniper’s hand hovered next to Spy’s face.

“Oui, please.”

When his fingertips met the Frenchman’s skin, both men felt shivers like sparks along their spines. Spy closed his eyes and felt Sniper’s finger gently trace his face, discovering it all as if he was a blind man. But no, Sniper was far from blind, he just wanted to confirm that what he was seeing wasn’t a hallucination. No, the man standing in front of him had the most comely features he had seen. A slim face, equally slim cheeks with cheekbones that are jutting just what they should, long dark eyelashes, a slightly hooked nose and thin lips. Gosh those lips…

“I…”

Spy opened his eyes and couldn’t help it but his cheeks turned pink when he saw the way that Sniper’s eyes were crossing down on his lips. He smiled and pushed himself to the tip of his toes.

Sniper’s eyes shut hard and he frowned. He tasted the chlorine on Spy’s lips and oh - vanilla, on his tongue.

[hankwritten]

Parental Adversary

Day 1 of the tf2 valentine’s day event. Dadspy vs Dadgineer

“Think we’re putting on a concert?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean, laborer.”

The Engineer smirked at him, and oh did Spy hate it when he smirked. “Can’t imagine why you were staring at us like that, unless you thought we were putting on a show.”

“Whatever music that flimsy thing you pretend is an instrument has been producing, I assure you it is not something I want to hear,” Spy said, leaning against the barn door in a manner that was certainly not a petulant slouch.

“Hm,” Engie mused. “Then why have you been standing here for an hour watching me teach Scout to play guitar?”

Spy scoffed. “I am merely shocked that you were able to teach him anything at all. I assumed you’d drugged his Bonk! to make him sit still for so long.”

“Scout’s a quick study, when you give him a reason to be.” Then, because he was annoyingly perceptive, Engie added, “I bet he’d listen to you too, if you weren’t so harsh with him.”

“Doubtful,” Spy sniffed. “Scout has the temperament of a fruit fly.”

Engineer eyed him thoughtfully. “You know Spy, sometimes you really remind me you don’t know jack all.”

Spy was left sputtering as the Engineer wandered off back to Harvest’s base.

***

Spy had nothing to prove. He would not be goaded, even though he knew that’s what the Engineer was doing, showing off that somehow he had managed to wrangle the boy’s obedience with…well Spy didn’t actually know. Probably some of that simpleton’s folksy grouses masquerading as humble proverbs. Engineer was all about feigning humility, which in retrospect made no sense as to why Scout would be drawn to him; if there was one Scout was not it was humble. Certainly if he were to begin hanging around one of his teammates, it should have been one of a more similar temper, and not the quiet, unassuming Engineer.

It just made no sense. And that was the only reason it bothered Spy, no matter how many eyebrows-raised-under-the-goggles looks Engie shot him. Scout was practically a wild animal, with—apologies to his mother—manners of a feral chipmunk. What the boy needed was a firm hand, and Spy would prove it.

“The other fork, Scout,” he said tersely over dinner. “Sometimes I wonder if I am actually surrounded by my peers or if you have all taken a page from Sniper’s lunatic bushman manual.”

Scout paused from jaggedly cutting his piece of ham to glare daggers at Spy.

“It is also meant to go in the other hand,” he added helpfully.

“Yeah?” Scout asked, waving his fork in a vaguely menacing way. “How about if I took it and put it up your ass? Would that help me cut my goddamn pork chop?”

“A pork chop is actually a loin cut taken perpendicular to the swine’s backbone. What I have prepared tonight, despite knowing that I would have to scrape through mud to even reach your plebeian palettes, is-”

Scout took his fork, stabbed the slice of ham, and shoved the entire thing into his mouth, never breaking eye contact with Spy. With that he stood, and went to drop his dish in the sink.

Spy glowered. The simplest bit of advice, and he’d nearly been attacked with cutlery. The boy was impossible.

Most of the table had failed to notice, except for the Engineer, who coughed quietly into his sleeve. Spy made a point not to glance at him. Engie coughed again, but when Spy still would not look up from where he was stabbing his own meal, he got to his feet and followed Scout to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Spy heard Engineer say, slightly muffled by the sounds of dining filling the room. “Need some help with that?”

Lifting his eyes, Spy saw that Scout had somehow managed to get the front of his shirt soaked in the short time it’d taken him to completely inhale his food. Spy sighed, watching Scout fruitlessly dry himself off with a hand towel. The activity was made more effective as someone actually competent arrived on the scene, Engineer providing some paper towels, which proved to work significantly better at mopping up the dark blue splotch on Scout’s shirt.

“Thanks pally,” Scout said with cheer, all of his earlier animosity dissipated like it was nothing. Spy’s nose wrinkled.

“If I can offer some advice that my Daddy once gave me,” Engie went on to say. “Always put the ice cubes in the cup before the water, never splash so much that way.”

Was Scout…contemplating that? If not, he was doing a startling good impression of a man who was actually being reflective for once. “…Huh, never actually thought of that. Makes a lot of sense though.”

“Well, now you know it. Personally I don’t believe in common sense; everybody’s gotta have something told to them at least once, otherwise it ain’t gunna be all that common.”

Scout seemed pleased with that, and continued to prattle away happily as he dabbed at his shirt.

Seething, Spy grabbed Engie’s arm at the end of dinner. “How did you do that.”

Engineer didn’t ask what about. “Spy, you gotta see Scout’s desperate for even the tiniest bit of affection. You remember when we didn’t come to his birthday party and he moped for weeks? You just gotta show a little compassion.”

“Unlikely,” Spy grumbled. “Scout has the patience of an egg timer.”

“Wonder where he gets that from.” Several long seconds passed. “Spy. Stop pouting.”

“I am not pouting,” Spy pouted.

“Look, I’m not trying to pry, that’s your business and all, but it obviously bothers that he’s looking up to someone else. If you really have decided to put some effort into this, then you need to go about it the right way.”

Spy firmed his jaw. Maybe it did bother him that despite his excellent crash course in the courting of women, Scout did not to see fit to return to him for any more advice on other topics. It was a horrid, nagging sensation that showed he had always just assumed Scout’s reverence would always be a given. He certainly wasn’t going to tell Engie that, though.

“…Fine. You have made your point,” Spy relented. “I will, keep it in mind.”

“Great to hear! Now as long as you’re sulking around, help me with these dishes.”

***

“-Oh. Didn’t know anyone was in here.”

Spy turned around to see Scout fidgeting nervously at the entryway to the music room. Spy, who had just been sliding the Demoman’s sheet music to a nearby table and replacing it with his own, stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“It is no trouble,” he said as neutrally as possible. But Scout still didn’t enter, and as he shifted from foot to foot, Spy noticed something he was attempting to tuck behind his back. “…Were you planning on practicing in here?”

As Spy indicated the instrument, Scout hesitated, then shyly drew it out. “Yeah, yeah. Wanted to see if I could still do it, even without Engie reminding me of stuff.”

Spy’s first instinct was to ask if Scout had been so crass as to steal from his instructor, but reined in the barb last second. Instead, he offered the more detached, “is that the Engineer’s guitar, then?”

“Nah, he gave me this one. He’s got loads of these things, on the count ‘a he’s always breaking them over people’s heads.”

“Ah.”

It was honestly shocking that they had managed to get this far in the conversation without a single insult traded between them. The surreal state of the moment obviously hit Scout as well, as he began to look around at random objects.

“You probably want to do piano though,” he offered suddenly. “And you got here first so I’ll just-”

“Wait,” Spy said before Scout could fully retreat out the door. “Perhaps you’d like to share what you’ve learned so far?”

He thought for sure Scout would say no. Go to hell Spy was practically his catchphrase, and Spy was not known for being a kind audience under even the best of circumstances. But, maybe Engineer was right about Scout downright starving for validation, because after a moment the boy bit his lip and crossed back into the room.

“Yeah, yeah alright,” he said cautiously, his need to show off and his fear of messing up fighting a clear battle on his face. “I got some good ones. Gunna knock your socks right off.”

“I look forward to it.” Spy sat down on the bench, facing away from the piano and toward the metal chair Scout had scraped across the floor for himself. “Perhaps I…”

Scout looked up from tuning.

“Perhaps after I hear you play a few times, I might be able to accompany you.” Spy indicated backwards to the wheezing little piano behind him.

Scout’s lip worrying ceased, and an actual smile crossed his face. “Hell yeah, that’d be cool.” And with that, he began to play. It was horrendous, but Spy listened anyway.

[ryuichirou]

Hi, Ryu❤️ Hope u’r doing well❤️

Since u’r talking about ships lately, I’m really curious to hear your opinion about Aru//Ani, its execution, development and progression throughout the whole plot👀, if it’s not a problem and especially if u have the time to. Its shippers claim Isym has been doing a great build up since FT arc (???) and that, despite the lack of development onscreen, the dynamic makes sense (???) cause they “complete” each other and they learnt how to “love and respect” each other throughout the past 4 years (???!!!).

And... I don’t know, Ryu: I really tried to consider their pov, even reread the A/A interactions and look at the dynamic with shipping goggles on, but I really failed to see and understand what they claim. Actually, I keep seeing this dynamic as insulting not just for Armin and Annie’s characters in first place, but also for Eren, Mikasa, Hitch and Berthold. Moreover, it seems nothing but an addiction made out for fanservice, cause it serves absolutely nothing to the plot: if u cut their interactions post 131ch, the story wouldn’t change in the least. Also, their interactions weren’t even that romantic and weren’t focused at all about their supposed “crush” for each other. I personally believe Armin is using Annie as coping mechanism and/or just a mean to substitute Eren; whereas Annie is substituting Armin with her father, cause she feels adrift and desperate, and seeks for someone who cherishes her and appreciates her for the person she is no matter the harsh things she did in the past (I’m crying for Hitch in the mid time....). Other than that, I’m believing also in Berthold’s influence on Armin, cause it’s the only explanation for the sudden interest of boy towards girl, that happen to begin exactly after he ate Berthold: it can’t be just a coincidence imo.

So yeah, at the end of the day, I’m pretty sad cause I used to love both the characters and now I’m much conflicted atm, cause I see nothing but a huge derailment for both and a waste for Annie’s one, who’s developing literally over a love interest... And it’s a very huge pity to me.

Sorry for the big ask, lol... I have this weight on my chest and I confess it’s actually ruining my love for SnK: I feel like everything after 131ch started sucking pretty hard... Plus, the fandom became more toxic than ever😔😔😔

I was waiting for someone to ask me about them eventually, and honestly... Anon, you're such a big mood lol

You’ve guessed correctly: I don’t like AruAni. Not because we personally don’t ship it, but because it doesn’t make sense and (for now) it’s unclear what it the purpose of this storyline and if there’s even going to be a purpose. I don’t recommend anyone shipping them reading my reply.

Basically, Anon, you’ve described everything perfectly, so I’m just going to agree with all your points. I also don’t see a reason for Armin to have this type of love for Annie. I see a coping mechanism, I see something to escape to from the Eren problem, I can even see a self-punishment of sorts, but I don’t see that sweet crush we’re led to believe is there. See, Armin didn’t even know Annie that well. They talked like twice, and then the Female Titan thing happened, and then… he was talking to her for years, but he still never learnt anything about her. How can he love her if he doesn’t even know who the fuck Annie is? And yeah, it’s convenient Bertold timing, I wonder if it’s going to come up later.

We feel like it’s unfair to other characters. It’s also extremely unfair to Hitch that’s also been here for Annie for all those years but didn’t get the special treatment for some reason. Like... their reasoning would be pretty much the same, they could’ve made Hitch her love interest for all the same reasons.

It’s unfair to Annie herself, because, based on what we know about her, she’s drawn to stubborn idiots going against the flow. Because she herself could never do that. This is the point of her character: she could never stand against what people asked her to do, even when she knew it was useless or wrong. This is why Eren intrigues her, this is why Marlo intrigues her.

Of course I’m biased here, and don’t get me wrong: I don’t see EreAnnie becoming a canon thing either lol and I talked about how I don’t care about ships being canon in general a bunch of times already. I’m saying this as an example of a dynamic that actually... works for her type of character. But all the development Annie’s got was kickstarted by Eren being interested in her fighting style and being the first person who legitimately interested her on this island (and who was interested in her too to some extent, at least interested in something she was proud of and deeply loved). She also deeply appreciated it, they had funny dialogues together, and he was the first and only person she had flirted with, which is a huge step for a character as shy, distant and serious as Annie. Seeing her now blushing for Armin looks like a joke when you keep these things in mind. You can listen to his stories all you want, but it’s strictly one-sided. And, like I said, Hitch can also have the same chances with this type of logic. Their pie-eating scene has more chemistry than all AruAni moments.

The “good person/bad person” dialogue with Armin doesn’t feel like a development to me because they were just mirroring each other’s thoughts, so it’s like talking to yourself…

Ok, that was a little bit off topic lol. But yeah, this is why for now we think that either there will be a twist of sorts (i’ll take killing Armin as a twist) or the editor just made Isayama push this narrative, since Isayama doesn’t strike me as a type who likes romance that much or ships his own characters, plus he used romance for proving the cruel world motif so many times already. Or this is just exactly what it is, a last minute het romance, and we’ll end up sitting there like bitter losers being all upset, Anon haha

The fandom’s always going toxic and pretty feral as soon as het couples pop up, and in general huge fanbases mean nothing good unless you want that sweet clout to make money or get attention, so the only thing I can advice you is to distance yourself from them so that it won’t ruin your SnK experience even more. I don’t know you or your feelings, but I think you’re just upset about AruAni thing, this is why the manga sucks to you right now (well, you basically said it yourself, if I got you correctly). And that’s fine and we’re annoyed by this thing a lot too, so we can definitely understand this sentiment. Personally, we pretend like this bs romance never happened so it won’t ruin our experience, and we’ll see what to think about it when SnK is over. Like, what if it’s just a plot device and we get ourselves worried about nothing? I wanna believe that... :”)

And can I just… use this chance to say how frustrated I am that the majority of Annie content there is is either AruAni or BerAni (or the trio)? It’s like she isn’t important when she’s not in the context of those relationships… It upsets me a lot.

Let me just say this… Reiner had more development with Annie than Armin and Bertolt combined. There, I said it. And Reiner’s fucking gay.

Overall, we’ll see how everything plays out, and then you can come again to us and we’ll bitch together lol

[newsiegirlscout]

Pow! Comfortember, Prompt “Reluctance to Sleep”, or, “We’ll pretend Scout is familiar with Volsunga.” 

Hugs and cocoa for @brushes-of-sage​, because I’m going to take the Harvard graduate of guesses and say they also need a bit of a push to rest well.

The hall was silent. 

Once confident the people of Corona were sedated, at least for the evening, Queen Rapunzel stretttched and bounded on light feet towards the servant’s entrance. What with the end of harvest season, quite a few disagreements had to be sorted out, but she’d done so to the best of her ability and satisfaction; sun, moon, and stars wouldn’t keep her from tackling her husband in a hug the second he walked in. 

So of course, the lingering scent of seawater and algae littering his grand uniform were hardly the obstacle. 

“Mwah!” she said with a giggle, throwing her arms around his shoulders and kissing him on the cheek; “Did you catch the ruffians and thugs?”

Eugene snorted, polishing one of his sandy medals on a sleeve that was slightly less drenched than the rest of him. “Not since five, no. This nut, on the other hand? Pulled a combination slash-and-grab, then a bait-and-switch, and then tried to weight and sink their haul to an offshore cave right before the tide came in.”

Rapunzel whistled. “Wow! Where are they now?”

“In the treehouse with his daughters, if he knows what’s good for him.” he grumbled. 

The brunette laughed, like a tinkling of silver bells. 

Eugene paused to check his reflection in the nearest reflective surface, a suit of armor, and wince. “Where’s the kid? Still alchemizing?” 

She whistled, long and slowly. “Maybe? I told him he was off hours ago, though.”

The captain cocked an eyebrow. “Did you actually see him leave his lab?”

Rapunzel paused for no more than a moment before shaking her head, but moved to stand in front of the hall. 

“Not so fast, Captain.” she said, smiling, “You’re going to try to persuade him to go to sleep, and then he’ll say ‘Not now, Eugene, I’ve just managed to synthesize cobalt-bound thiolates!’ and you’ll say ‘Goggles, I speak three languages and I understand none of what you just said.’” 

Eugene laughed. “Aw, Blondie, the hand flip is definitely more his thing.”

“You just did it.” she said with a wink. 

“Sun, moon, and stars--”

“And thennn”, she sing-songed, fluttering her hands in an imitation of her royal engineer “He’ll say, ‘It’s important because of alchemy!’ and you’ll insist on seeing the testing trial yourself, excusing it to say you’re watching to make sure he has a second-hand witness account but really because you want to see it happen and use the alchemy words you’ve been reading up on, and both of you will end up playing mad scientist all night. Not on my watch!” 

Eugene chuckled. “Alright, then, what does her majesty decree?” 

“Reconnaissance.” 

*************************************************************************************************************

Varian yawned, inadvertently tipping over a beaker of liquid sodium silicate--which might not have been such a problem, perhaps, if not for the powdered cobalt. 

But now there was a fire, which was a bit of a problem.

On a reflex, he slapped the cuff of his flaming sleeve and grabbed the nearest bucket of sand to toss over the counter; only after the last of the chemical fire had been smothered did he allow himself a tired, wordless sigh, sliding down to the floor of his lab. 

Eugene, perched atop a cluttered workbench, sipped his drink with a bemused grin. “Tough night?” 

“Gah! Eugene!!” he said, flustered as he turned around and snapped to a salute, “Gahhh! If you want to know, you could just as--is that hot chocolate?”

“Sure is.” he responded with a wink, shooting him finger-guns, “Nothing like Rapunzel’s cocoa on a cold night like this, though I suppose you have just demonstrated an, ah, effective alternative for staying warm. What are you working on, anyway?” 

“Nanowire synthesis with cobalt-bound insulation. It’s important because….alchemy.” 

“Any progress?” 

“Not yet.” Varian responded, trying and failing to hide his longing glance at Eugene’s cocoa. “Is...is Rapunzel still out there?” 

Eugene nodded, taking another sip of his drink and inadvertently dotting his nose with whipped cream. “Yep, though if you don’t claim it now, I might just drink the whole pot myself.”

The engineer turned to face his sleeping raccoon, nudging him gently to wake him up. “Hey, bud, watch my lab for me for a second?” 

Ruddiger shook his head, giving the most exaggerated yawn possible. Varian stopped short of stretching, instead holding his hand out. 

“I’ll get you a marshmallow…” 

The raccoon batted one of his paws upwards.

“Alright, fine, two marshmallows. Deal?” 

Ruddiger shook Varian’s index finger and thumb, but as soon as the teenager left, he turned to Eugene, who withdrew three marshmallows from his coat pocket. 

“Three to lock the door after him.”

The racoon chirped, grabbing at the sweets greedily. 

“Ah-ah-ah, just one up front.” Eugene said, passing the marshmallow, “The rest”--he displayed the other two between the fingers of his other hand--”after completion.”

*********************************************************************************************************

“Oh, I forbade you, maidens-a, that wear gowd in your hair…” Rapunzel sang softly, wafting the scent of the hot chocolate as she walked. 

“Rapunzel?” Varian called from the kitchens. 

She sang the next line quieter, walking lighter and listening for his footsteps to make sure he was following her. Once he was within, by her earshot, twenty paces, she slowed and turned around. 

“Oh! Varian!” she giggled, pretending she hadn’t noticed him coming and passing him the mug, “I didn’t see you there...Eugene was going to drink all this hot chocolate, but I saved this one for you. I’m surprised you aren’t in the library!” 

He cocked his head, confused. 

“We just got a new trade from Koto!” she exclaimed, “Xavier says it’s pretty similar to Beowulf; it’s called Volsa--Volsahn--bleh!” the princess stuck out her tongue and giggled, “I can’t pronounce it very well, but I was just on my way to read it! Care to join me?” 

At the mention of Beowulf, Varian perked up, but though he seemed hesitant, he pulled away. “Sorry, princess. Thanks for the cocoa, but an engineer’s work is never done!” 

“Please?” she hummed, pulling his wrist gently, “Stay for the first chapter, at least.” 

Ruddiger twisted around his legs, hopping up on his shoulder and using one of Rapunzel’s hairpins to mimic swordplay. 

“Ruddiger!” Varian scolded lightly, “I thought I told you to watch the lab!” 

“He made a deal with yours truly.” Eugene said, coming up behind him and popping a marshmallow into his mouth, “Turns out the only lab hazard was me, thus science triumphs once again.” 

“Alright.” the teenager sighed, “Just the first chapter.” 

Ruttiger chirped happily, curling around Varian’s shoulders. When he wasn’t looking, the racoon chittered at Eugene, holding out his paw. 

Eugene passed over the other two marshmallows and shook his head. “The most honest deal I ever made, and it’s with a racoon.” he muttered. 

************************************************************************************************************

The first thing Varian noticed were the blankets on the rug, and immediately Eugene tensed.

“Sooo, I thought we could set it up like a little sleepover…” Rapunzel chirped, looking hesitantly at the boys. Both of them motioned to step out, sensing a plot, but she looked so sweet and sincere that they found themselves drawn in. 

“It’s just a story.” Eugene thought softly, “You’re an adult, now, just...put the kid to sleep, and finish patrol.”

Varian cast a desperate glance towards the door, but Ruttiger was already curled up on the down, his chest rising and falling softly on Varian’s lap. Chuckling, he gave a thumbs-up to Rapunzel at the same time Eugene complimented her idea. 

“The tale begins here of a man named Sigi…” she read happily, in a light and gentle tone, “...and his quest from Hrimnir the Great to slay the dragon Fafnir.” 

Unwittingly, unwillingly, Eugene leaned forward just a tiny bit. 

Quietly, Varian found himself drawn in to the rhythm of Rapunzel’s voice and decided perhaps he could stay for chapter two. 

*************************************************************************************************************

“Then son and father-in-law parted, and Siggier returned home with his wife.” she finished softly, smiling. Eugene yawned, and stretched, preparing to stand once measuring the even breathing of Varian’s chest. 

“I’ll carry him.” he said quietly to his wife, “Glad to see something could pull him away from his work.” 

“I don’t think so.” she sang softly, throwing her arms around Eugene and tackling him to the ground, “I think I could say the same about someone else who works himself to death.”

He laughed, trying to push himself off the ground. “Sunshine, I’ll always make time for you, but there’s still work to be done--” 

“And yet, it could wait long enough for you to watch your little brother.” she giggled, kissing his cheek, “Consider this an executive order, you make sure Varian stays right here, and I’ll watch after you.” 

Eugene smiled like the sun setting, relenting to the powers of his wife--it was an order from the queen, after all. 

Unwittingly, unwillingly, Eugene Fitzherbert fell asleep; 

Unwittingly, unwillingly, he was happy.

[subwalls]

WHUMPTOBER 2021 - 6/30

No. 6 - TOUCH AND GO bruises | touch starved | hunger

Also available on AO3!

The first time George crosses the void, it’s to attend his best friend’s funeral.

Mostly for the purposes of rejecting it altogether. 

“You know he’s not dead, right?” George says. He adjusts his goggles, pressing tenderly at the indents the frame leaves on his face. “Let’s just get out of here. He doesn’t die that easily.”

“I know,” Sapnap says, frustrated. “I know he’s not dead. He’s just gone .” 

George can’t argue that. Neither of them remember their friend’s name—that’s damning enough, even without the week Sapnap spent nearly scalding the inside of his skull, scouring the city with the All-Seeing Eyes of the Gods without care for how much heat they generated, only for the search to turn out without so much as a grain of evidence that their friend even existed at all.

That’s the problem, George is pretty sure. The All-Seeing Eyes peel back the bells and whistles of lies and magic, exposing nothing but the raw truth of the world around them.

And the truth is that invisible werewolves can disappear themselves so thoroughly they can make the world be as though they never existed to begin with.

The Eyes can’t see them because there is nothing to see. 

Allegedly.

George is well aware that he shouldn’t know this. If their friend truly diluted his existence so thinly that nobody could find him, then neither he nor Sapnap should even remember that he existed. But they do; they remember his pronouns, even—and, if George strains for the faintest edges of his memory, the sound of his laughter.

So there are traces. It’s not a perfect vanishing act, which means there has to be a way to reverse it.

George tells Sapnap as much, when they leave the… gathering of people forgetting that they’re mourning even as they do it. Sapnap nods in agreement.

“Phil said most of the invisible werewolves have a token of some kind,” Sapnap says. “Like, a cypher that can bring them back. They tried to do it with this person, but it didn’t work.”

“What was it?”

“I think it had something to do with the Eyes? He didn’t tell me the details. It’s private.”

A part of George wants to snipe that they must not have been good friends then, if such a key detail couldn’t be shared with them. 

Logically, he’s certain that they did know, at some point. It just faded along with the rest of their memories of him.

“Okay,” says George. “We don’t need a cypher of whatever anyway.” He brings his hands up to his goggles, but the moment his fingers brush the cool, pitch-black glass, he hesitates.

It’s funny. The memory of that event—the figure leaning out of the sky with unending wings and crossed halos and an unmarked sphere of pale light that spoke so softly, choose who will see this through to the End —it’s glitchy, like a trying to straighten out a crumpled-up photo. The lines of wear and tear are there.

George knows that people have opinions about his friends jumping into SMP City without him, about his blacked-out goggles and their unnaturally glowing blue eyes. Most of them assume they left him behind, sacrificed his flawed sight to split the rewards between them both—Sapnap has whined about it before, most recently in the context of that Blood Breed conflict that roped him into the Syndicate.

In reality, George never gave up anything.

Or, better phrased: George was the only one who didn’t give something up.

He shoves the goggles up, and the All-Seeing Eyes of the Gods spring open with the near-musical string of notes that aren’t unlike the chimes of a computer’s start-up sequence.

Immediately, a headache of information slams into him with all the force of a ten-inch steel wall, WALL WALL BRICK BACKROOM DOOR AND STAIRWAYS DOWN A HUNDRED SOULS IN A CONCRETE ARENA ENDER FLESH BREAKING NETHER BLOOD DRIPPING HUMA CROWDS WATCHING WATCH WATCH—

George shudders in a breath, the blue-tinted view of his surroundings fizzling too-bright too-much, and he can almost hear someone in the back of his head, chiding, “If you’d just practiced instead of shutting it down and pretending like you don’t have it, George, you could easily handle that neural load by now. I’m telling you, you can’t keep pretending it isn’t there!”

George says, “I hate this part.”

Sapnap laughs at him. George turns towards him on instinct and sees the star-riddled void under that cloth eyepatch, a dead eye in form but a vacuum in function, A DEBT INCURRED A DEBT REPAID SIGHT FOR SIGHT AN EYE FOR AN EYE AND THE HOLE LEFT BEHIND AS THE HIGHER HAND TAKES AND THE HIGHER HAND GIVES AND THE CONTRACT REMAINS THE CONTRACT REMAINS—

—and oh, oh, he knows how to do it, he knows what to look for. 

If you could back out of a divine contract by just dissipating, then it wouldn’t be much of a divine contract, would it? Here stands George and Sapnap, two-thirds or maybe two-fourths of a contract etched in song and history and the pupils of their eyes. The other parties must exist.

They already do; the Eyes hum, blitzing through reams upon reams of information, lighting up not just George’s face but Sapnap’s as well, and because they exist, so must be the one who paid for their existence.

( Choose who will see this through to the End. )

(“If you have to take something, take it from me!”)

(We forgive your transgression. But we do not revoke the payment we have taken.)

(“Fine by me. This is better than what it was gonna be, anyway.”)

George’s eyes burn, escalating to an awful, awful heat that feels like it’s going to boil the blood in his veins, but still he sees, still he looks for those hairline fractures in reality, A SHADOW WAS HERE AND A FOOTSTEP THERE SEE IT SEE IT IT IS TRUE SO MAKE IT TRUE—

The gears of light twist, shrieking out some incomprehensible song, crackling with power in front of his eyes, and he can taste blood in the back of his throat and on his lips and it’s dripping to the floor now but still he looks.

A pressure on his wrist, tight enough to bruise.

“Okay,” rasps a SHADOW SILHOUETTE FIGMENT OF PRESENCE DRAWN BACK TOGETHER figure that flickers, wavering. “Stop, stop it, that’s enough, I’m here, I’m here—”

George slams his other hand over that pressure at his wrist and feels at first only the rough fabric of his own jacket, but then, abruptly, the softer cotton of a warm jumper.

“Turn them off, oh my god,” says—says—says Dream, waving his free hand through the light of the Eyes like he’s trying to dismiss them, just barely shuttering back into some normal level of existence. His grip on George tightens, desperate; his good eye meets George’s gaze pleadingly, while his other, an identical match to Sapnap’s, remains a featureless expanse of stars. “You’re going to roast the one brain cell you have left, you idiot, turn them off—”

George shuts his Eyes, and the stream of information dies abruptly. The silence in his head leaves him reeling, for a second, which gives Sapnap just enough time to scream in fury and tackle Dream to the ground, dragging George down with them.

“Don’t do that!” Sapnap shrills, making an aborted movement like he wants to strangle the life out of Dream but isn’t sure he won’t just give way under his touch. “You’re the worst, you’re the actual worst—”

“ What? How? I didn’t—”

“—and you suck, and the next time you get cornered by a Blood Breed you gotta call for help before you get muffined—”

The two of them fall into bickering so easily it’s comforting, like a backdrop of rain, just a wash of noise so smooth out the ruffled edges the Eyes left behind.

George reaches up, catching Dream’s arm before he can elbow Sapnap into oblivion. “You’re so annoying,” he tells him. “You said you specifically came here so you I didn’t have to use these things.”

“Well,” Dream says, “that’s not the only reason.”

“Still! You broke your promise!”

“I didn’t promise anything,” Dream complains, warm and alive and more present than ever. “You’re just being a baby. Both of you are.”

Sapnap shifts, and George pulls his goggles back over his eyes just in time to see Dream go still as Sapnap practically cradles his head between his hands.

“Remember what we said about us being your token?” Sapnap asks.

“Mhm.”

“I’m taking it back.” And then, as Dream’s face crumples, “I mean! I know you can’t like, change it, because it’s what makes you want to go come back no matter what and that stuff. But you can’t do this again, Dream. You were gone.” His voice lowers. “We barely knew you.”

Something in Dream’s gaze cracks, and he’s pushing himself up, clipping distractedly through them. Sapnap and George scramble upright as he sits primly a clean inch away from them both and says, “I know, but it’s not like I wanted to. I got snuck up on, okay? It’s not like I like being—being less, and untouchable, and spreading myself so thin I can’t feel anything at all.” 

He shudders, then, and some of the color bleeds from his clothes.

“It doesn’t feel great for me, either, Pandas,” Dream says, and Sapnap makes a wounded noise and lurches forward to wrap him in a hug.

George watches them, for a moment, and nearly envisions a void yawning wide between them before he realizes that Sapnap is pulling him into it too, and now they’re all wrapped around each other and stifling laughter about it, and it’s warm, and oh, George has been alone—on the other side of the void, reluctant to step past the dragon’s den—for so long now.

He’s missed this. The bracing tightness of Sapnap squeezing them like he’s got something to prove, the low hum in Dream’s chest as he relaxes, George’s own skin feeling almost too tight for the nostalgia that wells up in his throat, almost too warm to lean into it, but also offended at the very thought of trying to extract himself from it.

“How’s this,” Dream says, cautiously, muffled against Sapnap’s shoulder, “we let George move in with you, you Sap, and I—”

“Stop sleeping in the Syndicate’s offices and join us?” Sapnap says, poking fun.

“It’s comfortable,” Dream grumbles. “And there’s free food. And no biased landlord.”

George squints at him. “Is this about the Huma-only thing?” he says, and Sapnap nods quickly. “Isn’t your whole thing about avoiding that kind of stuff, Dream? How does a landlord affect you at all?”

Dream opens his mouth, stops, and then shuts it. And then, “Shut up.”

“Wow,” Sapnap says. “I think you left a few brain cells behind when you came back.”

Dream shoves his head away, messing up Sapnap’s hair. “The only thing I left behind was my breakfast,” he declares. “I’m hungry. Can we go get something to eat now, instead of sitting in a… random alley in the middle of nowhere?” He looks around, only just now noticing that they are, in fact, sitting in a random alley in the middle of nowhere. “Is this—where are we?”

Sapnap perks up. “Oh, yeah,” he says, “while we were looking for you, I—George—we saw what looked like one of those underground fighting rings. The entrance is kinda close to here. D’you think it’s that Las Nevadas crew Phil and Tech have been looking for?”

“Only one way to find out,” Dream says cheerfully, and looks at George.

George sputters. “I-I can’t believe you. I set my eyeballs on fire for you,” he says, indignant, “and this is how you repay me? By asking for more?”

Sapnap laughs, knocking their heads together, and something in George’s chest settles with a burst of rightness. “Maybe later,” he says. “Dream’s right, I’m starving. And tired. Your Eyes suck, George.”

“Thanks, you bought them for me,” George says, at the same time that Dream says, “I’m always right.”

[openheart12]

Hi, yes, hello beautiful! Can you write a fic where MC accidentally sends Ethan her entire fanfic folder by mistake 😂🤣

How To Get Away With Fanfiction

I’m reliving my embarrassment 😭 but it is done and idk wtf happened with this lmao. This is also to make up for earlier kmjhygfd

Only tagging @ao719 @oofchoices @loveellamae @burnsoslow because no one else should have to read this unless they click on the read more and if they do... god bless. And thank you to Maroe for helping me come up with some of these ideas!

It had been a long day at work when Dr. Gertrude-Sue Claws made her way home to do the one thing that relaxed her; writing fanfiction.

She had thought of the perfect idea for Spirit and Rainbow Dash and her fingers flew across the keyboard.

There was something about the multi colors in his mane and tail that drew him to her. He lived by the phrase, “hump ‘em and dump ‘em,” which he planned on doing with Rainbow Dash, but not without consent because horse jail wasn’t fun. He had heard the horror stories from his human friends, Kurns and Bryce.

“Rainbow Dash,” he neighed.

“Spirit…” She neighed back in response, she knew all about his...extracurricular activities. He was the biggest fuck horse out of the herd. Ever since Rain had died from drowning, god bless, he hadn’t been the same. It was also why he paid more attention to Rainbow Dash because she had Rain in the first part of her name.

“Let’s do this,” he smirked with his horse mouth.

“Fine…” She turned her back to him as he reared on his hind legs and mounted her, letting out a series of neighs.

She laughed silently to herself before moving on her Owen Hunt fic and she knew how much she was going to enjoy this one especially.

Owen was walking through the halls when he saw five women stalking towards him like cats, one even had whiskers drawn on her face. “Anitah with the h, get him!” He heard one of them command and watched as she came up to him, kicking him in no man's land. He felt them drag him into an empty exam room.

“MAROE! You got the chainsaw?”

“Nah bruh, Bears and Rams were in charge of that,” she explained.

Anything but Krista, cocked her half shaved eyebrow at Burns and Ella. “Y’all got the chainsaw?”

“No, but I have the cream for the burn I’m about to inflict,” Burns snickered to herself at her own joke, the others joining in before getting back to business.

“Burns, Ella, go scope out the cafeteria for some good food because I can’t kill in good faith on an empty stomach and as me and Ella say, we always get food first,” Anything but Krista said, turning her attention to the two people left, throwing them both a knife. Then proceeded to stab Owen numerous times, but making sure not to hit any major organs yet.

“We need a blender,” Anitah with the h announced.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Anything but Krista and MAROE said at the same time, looking at each other and bursting into laughter at the jinx.

“If that was making a human smoothie, then yes. We’ll show him that no one messes with Derek Christopher Shepherd,” Anitah with the h said smugly, pulling a blender out from behind her back and plugging it into the wall.

“You...you pulled that out of your jacket?” MAROE asked in a surprising tone.

“Y’all don’t keep blenders in yours?” Anitah with the h asked as if that wasn’t common, but it was good to know that she was always prepared.

Suddenly, the walkie talkie came to life, “Team Bears/Rams to Team CA, what y’all want from here? Over and out.”

“Team CA to Team Bears/Rams, we want CookOut. Over and out.” Anything but Krista responded. “It’s about time y’all tried a little piece of heaven,” she looked at Anitah with the h and MAROE.

“That’s a negative ghost rider, the closest CookOut is on the other side of the country. Over and out.”

“Well you better get on your way because you two also need to try a little piece of heaven, we’ll save the good stuff for when you get back. Over and out.” The trio resumed their slice and dice game, taking a short break to play Choices because the latest chapter of The Nanny Affair had just been released and even Owen wasn’t going to keep them away from Sam Dalton.

A couple hours later, Burns and Ella arrived with the food, handing out their respective trays to their respective orderers, they were able to keep the milkshakes from melting by their cold hearts.

“Ahhh gimme my milkshake,” Anything but Krista snatched it from Burns’ hand, earning a slap on her hand from her adoptive mother and a threat of taking away her pony...again.

“Yooo this shake hits different,” Ella exclaimed.

“You could even say that it slaps,” MAROE added making her squeak.

“It’s the one good thing North Carolina has to offer for me,” Anything but Krista chimed in, fist bumping Anitah with the h because the struggle was real. The cows really did outnumber the people, they just hoped that there wouldn’t be a cow revolution because that would be awful except the yeehaw folk would probably survive since they did have a song called “A Country Boy Can Survive.” 

“Burns, we left you the honor of picking the perfect weather for us to dispose of the body which is more like liquid at this point. We need rain, thunder, and lightning to erase all of the evidence. Watching “Forensic Files” has finally come in handy. And Ella, we need you to pretend to be a nurse or something to help us get out of here. I’ll be honest, I haven’t thought that far ahead…” Anything but Krista admitted, but they expected that from her so they already had a plan in place.

“If anyone happens to see Derek Shepherd, I ask that you tell me,” MAROE added.

“Not if I find him first,” Anything but Krista said.

“He’s like fifty four years old…” Burns said being ever the good adoptive mother.

“Then I call Spencer Reid!” Anything but Krista exclaimed.

“I have Lucifer then,” MAROE challenged knowing that would get under her skin. 

“Children, calm yourselves.” Burns shook her head.

“Hey, I’ll be eighteen in like a number amount of months,” Anything but Krista said.

“I’ll be eighteen before you,” MAROE said, sticking out her tongue.

“I’Ll Be EiGhTeEn BeFoRe YoU,” she repeated, placing her hands on her hips and doing that Spongebob meme. After thinking of a better comeback, she grabbed her knife she used on Owen earlier and plunged it into MAROE’s back.

“Et tu, Brute?” MAROE said with shock in her voice before her body crumpled on the ground.

“Yes, bye bitch.”

The other three just stared as the blood drained from her body before turning their attention to Anything but Krista. They were the epitome of 👁👄👁.

“What? She wanted to “due” anyway. And at her funeral we can play “To Be So Lonely” because well she will be lol.”

“Anywaysss, we gonna get food or what?” Ella asked as she covered Owen’s body with a sheet.

“Wings?” Burns suggested and they all agreed. After arriving at the restaurant, they were very shocked to see MAROE sitting at a table waiting for them.

“It’s the trying to kill me for me,” she said upon taking their seats, glaring at Anything But Krista specifically.

“It’s the stealing my fictional husbands for me,” she retaliated.

“It’s the acting like children for me,” Burns' authoritative voice came.

“Sorry,” they both murmured as they looked over the menus to order their food. The rest of their lunch going smoothly, their victims already forgotten about. Don’t mess with hangry chicks who hate Owent Cunt.

“So who’s next?” Anitah with the h asked.

“Ahh you’ve gotten the first taste of blood and now you’re addicted,” Burns observed. She would make for a good profiler for the FBI at Quantico. She would have a cool nickname; Cunt Punter.

“Why not just kill everyone we hate?” Ella questioned.

“That’s a great idea! I say we kill Guy and Vanessa,” Anything but Krista suggested.

“And Landrat!” MAROE added, the whole group agreeing, finishing their lunch before getting to their killing spree.

Gertrude-Sue was laughing at her made up characters and story when she received an email from Ethonk Remy to send him a folder that she had. Goggle Drive was acting stupid so she didn’t realize that she had shared her fanfiction folder with her boss before it was too late. She saw a little giraffe pop up in the right hand corner telling her that he was already viewing what was inside the folder.

“Holy donkey claws,” she cried out loud, smacking her hands against her face.

Meanwhile, Ethonk was going through her folder when he came across a document and his eyes went wide. “What are they doing with the dog?” He said to himself.

Wonder pets, wonder pets

We're on our way

To help a friend and save the day

We're not too big

And we're not too tough

But when we work together, we've got the right stuff

Gooo wonder pets yaaaaay!

The phone

The phone is ringing

The phone

We'll be right there

The phone

The phone is ringing

There's an animal in trouble

There's an animal in trouble

There's an animal in trouble somewhere

“What the hell are Wonder Pets?” He continued inspecting the different documents ranging from murder of one Owen Cunt, horses having sexual intercourse, Wonder Pets stuff, four kids and a dog where they did questionable things with each other, a sponge and a starfish were high on marijuana, a game where Gertrude-Sue had made him and her a family that looked way too realistic for his liking, two bunnies who kept hopping around with one of their little brothers, and multiple documents about Matthew Gray Gubler, Tom Holland, Tom Ellis, Patrick Dempsey, and Harry Styles which were all quite disturbing.

He took out his phone to call her. “Hey uh, Gert, what is this?”

“Oh well you see, the funny thing is that I accidentally sent you the wrong folder so if you could just pretend like this never happened, that would be fantastic. Okay thanks bye. I’m sending you the right one this time.” And she hung up, ready to throw herself off a cliff at her stupidity.

One thing was for sure, she would never make this mistake again.

[kbstories]

Ontological

on·to·log·i·cal (adj.) Existing as such; metaphysical.

Eustass Kidd and Killer, during and afterwards.

(Or: Killer and SMILE, let’s talk about it.)

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Violence, Reunions, Body Dysmorphia

Read Chapter 1 here. Soft spoiler warning for Chapter 981. Content warning for discussions of Body Dysmorphia/BDD. Read Chapter 3 here.

***

They walk for hours, across dusty desert plains and past the outskirts of a bustling city to the very edge of a forest, every leaf covered in delicate frost. Kidd doesn’t have a single clue where they’re going – all he’s seen of Wano Country is a waterfall and the inside of a cell and what a lovely first impression that was – but Killer seems to, always two steps ahead of Kidd.

In that dark kimono and cloaked in patterned fabric, Killer looks like he belongs here, roaming wherever the wind carries him. All formal-like with his hair pulled up high and out of his face and his wrists bandaged all the way to his fingers.

Fucking uncomfortable is what he looks like, shoulders drawn and hands clenched where the grip of his scythes would be, and Kidd’s stomach roils with a fury that has nowhere to go.

Not right now, anyways.

Yet he’s still just Killer: despite the smile that remains on his lips, cold as the snow beneath their feet, despite the weeks they spent apart. Still the man that has been by his side since Kidd can remember, all the way back to the days they were snot-faced nobodies from South Blue dreaming of the wide-open sea and finding One Piece.

Killer’s always been a man of few words. He’s calmer now, hasn’t said much of anything since they left the prison gates behind. When Kidd had asked if he knew where the others were, Killer had nodded and led the way.

He hasn’t laughed either, as much as every breath threatens to change that. Kidd keeps a tight hold on his metal fist and doesn’t stare.

It’s quiet out here, eerily so. They come by a bridge and bloody arches splattered on cracked wood and snow alike. Across countless graves, old and frozen over to the point of illegibility – and while Killer’s gaze falls on the swords stuck in front of them, he does not stray from his path.

Idiot. Kidd rolls his eyes and gestures to a pair of short ones that are vaguely curved. They are torn from their place of rest with nary a sound; hovering, just as soundlessly, until Killer sighs and takes them in hand.

“A spirit guards this place”, he says, as if Kidd has ever given a shit about anything holy. Killer glances at Kidd’s deadpan stare, his eyes meeting Kidd’s before flitting away again, and Killer’s lips twitch. “It’s bad luck, that’s all.”

“Whatever”, Kidd huffs. Watches Killer draw each of the swords, quick and precise, and they can’t be all that crap given the care with which Killer ties them to the sash around his waist.

Onwards they go until the trees part and Killer finally stops. Kidd does so, too, shoulder to shoulder with him as the wind tears into the heavy fur of his coat. One step further the ground gives into a steep cliff and jagged rocks below. Beyond that: the rumbling of waves against shore.

They found the ocean.

Tucked into a cove, the Victoria Punk lies at anchor and there, in the middle of deck, a bonfire casts its warm glow. A light that calls her captain home and Kidd grins. They made it.

It’s a bit far to the metal in the Punk’s skull but Kidd doesn’t care. He reaches for it, feels its presence hum under the palm of his hand and it’s enough, the connection strong and unrelenting.

“Got her. Let’s go, Killer.”

Kidd’s metal arm opens to let him grab on and Killer– He stays right where he is, stiff under all those layers of fluttering fabric and Kidd looks at him. Really looks, his gaze searching for that face he knows so well and sees so rarely and much less like this, with lips pulled unnaturally wide and eyes shifting with hesitation.

A face none of the crew would recognize because they’ve never–

“They won’t care, K. You know they won’t.”

“I know”, Killer grinds out between clenched teeth. The thick muscles of his throat work; the chuckle still makes it out of his mouth, a strangled, joyless noise. “I know but–”

That’s the problem, isn’t it? That sliver of doubt that Killer’s worst fear could come true is almost as terrifying as the thing itself, and Kidd swallows whatever else is on his tongue. Promises himself he will speak every ounce of truth when the time is right, will whisper reassurances against Killer’s skin from here to eternity if that’s what it takes to make him believe them.

Kidd’s hand drops, as does the surge of power pulsating from it. “Okay.” He turns away from the Punk and towards Killer, a moment spent figuring things out before he tugs the cloak… thing off Killer’s shoulders.

(Killer doesn’t flinch from his touch but it’s close enough. Kidd pretends not to notice.)

Without hesitation Kidd digs metal fingers into the fabric and rips it apart, a long tear splitting the silk in two. Frowns at the one which is longer and dipped in old blood and shrugs. There are feathers on it.

It’ll do.

Killer is watching him, a line between his brows and his gaze a little squinted like he’s trying to gauge what the hell Kidd is up to. It makes Kidd wonder if whatever happened to him also affects his brain somehow because seriously.

“Get that shit off your face. I’ll do your hair.”

The tie keeping everything tightly bound suffers the same fate, shiny and expensive and ruined as Kidd throws it over his shoulder. Killer’s hair explodes into a familiar cascade of blonde in the matter of moments – the knots and tangled bits will take ages to comb out, which makes another item on Kidd’s to-do list.

Kidd shakes out the front until it falls over Killer’s eyes. “There”, he mumbles with some smugness and can’t help the nostalgic smile it brings to his lips. “Hah. This takes me back.”

Hidden by hair or not, Kidd knows where to catch the glint of Killer’s eyes in there and how they soften. “Mhm.”

The rest of Killer’s face is painfully bare without the bandages and so Kidd doesn’t linger. Just gives Killer the makeshift scarf he made and waits until he’s wrapped it around his neck and pulled it up to the bridge of his nose to tie it in place with a clumsy knot.

There. Not much finesse to it, the torn edges and messy strands clashing against Killer’s outfit with all its elegant folds and neat lines. Even muffled by the mask Kidd can hear the quiet sigh Killer breathes and something in him settles, too.

“C’mon. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

They come home.

*

Afterwards, that’s when Kidd asks.

After his boots hit deck for the first time in weeks and he thought finally; after both he and Killer were barreled over in a mass of hugs – warm, so warm – among shouts of “Captain!” and “Killer! You’re back!”; after Doc descended on them with the righteousness of a Valkyrie from myths and legends and Killer pointed at Kidd and said, “Kidd got shot”, and Kidd hissed back, “Bastard”, and didn’t mention the cuts hidden under that damned kimono (not yet); after Killer slinked off in the direction of their room (one hand keeping the mask in place, not that anyone had given a rat’s ass because the Punk’s right here and they’re all still breathing) and Kidd surrendered himself to his fate at Doc’s hands.

It’s what the crew needed, in that moment. Red-nosed and shivering from temperatures they’re not really made for, and Eustass Kidd is a captain to them all, not just Killer.

So he let Doc fuss over bullet wounds and overexposure to Sea Stone. He listened to Wire’s calm voice re-tell the story of how they got here, how Killer set off to find him and the day Pirate Hunter Zoro wandered by, clearly lost. In turn, Kidd told them the gist of what happened half a country away: about Udon’s downfall and the tides of rebellion crashing against Onigashima’s shores soon enough.

The bonfire burned on. There’s a decision to be made there, Kidd realized as he stared into its flames. Every expression around him carried the same conviction, encased in flickering orange and the bite of snow and Kidd knew, if he asked then and there, they would follow him into a war they'd lost once before.

Yet Killer’s not here and Kidd was tired, so fucking tired.

Across from him Heat shifted, a frown deepening the scars on their face with the things Kidd didn’t say: They have been with them longer than anyone else has, the first to join and the only one to have witnessed what’s beneath the mask. Heat’s gaze searched Kidd’s over the glowing embers between them and they, too, didn’t press for answers.

They smiled, instead, old stitches pulled taut. “Dinner’s on me. Welcome back, Captain.”

Through it all Kidd bit his tongue and waited. Killer is nowhere to be found when he finally steps into the captain's cabin: There’s a pile of used bandages and dark silk on the floor, the sound of a shower running the next room over. Filthy as it is, Kidd deems his fur coat a lost cause and tosses it to the ground along with the rest.

After days of wear, the clothes peel off like a second skin. The dust of the stone pit has been washed off yet it lingers, stuck under painted nails and in the greasy spikes of Kidd’s hair.

The goggles come off next. Kidd… sits, for a while, buck-ass naked on the edge of the bed occupying most of their quarters. Lets his fingers run over old, black leather and the holes missing studs have left behind, and his eyes are dull where they’re mirrored by tinted glass, monochromatic.

Killer’s mask is right there. Blue-and-white, mounted on its stand, not a single scratch on it – Killer’s design and Kidd’s handiwork, its individual pieces welded into place damn near perfectly so it won’t come off unless Killer wants it to.

Kidd stares at it, alone in this space they carved for themselves in this world, and remembers: Killer’s laugh, choked and wrong; Killer’s body, limp in the water; Killer’s face, tear-stained and bared for everyone to see–

Fuck.

Kidd’s palm is rough against his face, skin grown tough with callouses and burn marks. His fingers dig into his mouth and his scar and his eyes and they sting as his eyeliner smudges beyond repair.

How the fuck do I fix this?

Steam rolls into the room like thunder over the sea, the air charged and heavy with it. The bed dips behind him, legs bracketing his; hands slide over Kidd’s back to his chest, slightly damp. Naked skin against naked skin.

This is the thing Kidd missed the most, locked away and powerless.

“Kidd.”

There’s layers to it, the way Killer says his name. A weight behind that one word that invokes the thousand other times he has uttered it just like this, lips a phantom sensation at the nape of Kidd’s neck. The smile is still there, Kidd can feel it, and that too is a memory made physical.

It’s warm summer nights, it’s skinned knees and knocked out teeth, it’s mornings spent in bed with the Punk’s lazy sway beckoning them back to sleep.

Kidd loves Killer’s smile, has loved it before people started mocking him for it and continued to love it past the day Killer decided to hide it. He’d hoped, even as he made that mask, that a time would come when it wouldn’t be needed.

Not like this, though. Not against Killer’s will.

“It’s that SMILE shit, isn’t it?”

Finally, finally Kidd gives voice to the question burning in his mind, his heart, his lungs. Killer’s arms tighten around him but Kidd can’t hold back, can’t–

“Those fake Devil Fruits Strawhat was talking about, that’s what causing this. That’s why you can’t stop. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Killer is a force of nature on the battlefield, a whirlwind of blades and raining blood – here, now, his chest shifts against Kidd’s back with a breath that trembles on the line of becoming a laugh. “You’re not.”

Finally, Kidd allows himself to feel the ache at his core, the sheer grief of it all. The goggles drop to the ground as his fingers claw at fire-red hair instead, pulling. Pain, sharp, sizzles across his scalp, does nothing but add to the suffocating pressure building in Kidd’s throat because there’s no way out of this.

Artificial or not, Devil Fruits are forever.

“Why, Killer? You’re strong, they can’t… Just eating the fruit doesn’t work, you gotta swallow it. You gotta want it. What the fuck were you thinking?!”

And damn Killer, damn him for hearing Kidd’s voice shake and wrapping around him like Kidd’s the one falling apart. For running his hand over Kidd’s until he clings to that instead, strong and steady where Kidd can’t be, not anymore.

They’ve always been together, their lives and pasts and dreams entangled and breathing as one. From South Blue to the New World they've kept this secret safe and–

“There was a choice. They gave me a choice, Kidd.”

It’s mumbled right against Kidd’s ear like the truth will hurt less if spoken quietly. Because there’s no regret in Killer’s voice, none, and there’s only one thing he’d give up everything for.

Kidd clenches his eyes shut, groans out, “No–”

Killer doesn’t let him go, pressing a kiss to his shoulder with smiling lips.

“I just picked the one I could live with.”

>>Chapter 3.