#and fighting fire with fire is not gonna help

[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[tiredfox64]

Waiter waiter!!

More giant Bi-han pls !!

(Headcanons,,, or smrhn,,, other characters are cool too !!)

Big...That's It

Yip notes: kitchen burning all around me with my lighter in my hand and the food on fire ...Okay...headcanons are good...custom job...g/t stuff again okay okay

Pairings: Bi-Han x Gn reader, Raiden x Gn reader

Warnings: My headcanons gasp opinions oh gosh

Bi-Han

I said it once and I'll say it again. It's giving Marc Antony and Pussyfoot. Just this big, aggressive guy who has to deal with this little menace that causes so much trouble but he loves them.

That man HATES to have you out of his sight. You need to be in front of him or in his peripheral vision.

If you can't stay in front of Bi-Han you're getting the towel or the leash. He will slam you down into a hand towel and wrap you up like a newborn Russian baby. That small leash that's made for bearded dragons that he bought one day? That's going on you too.

All silliness aside, Bi-Han actually likes you this way. A tiny thing that fits in the palm of his hand.

He likes that you're pathetic and you're forced to depend on him for certain things like getting you food or fighting off ants that try to fight you.

He purposely gives you big slices of food because you look cute shoving food in your cheeks. You look so silly eating baby corn, don't worry it's in a good way. He does scold you if you fill your mouth up too much and taps your back lightly to make you spit it out. Okay...maybe not so light.

You are his stress toy. You will be in a death grip while Bi-Han's thumb rubs against your head. You're an analog stick.

He doesn't trust you to sit on his head. You're gonna pull his hair and he knows it. You can stay on his shoulder.

Bi-Han likes to keep you in his room. You have your own little setup (probably in a huge cage with cloths over it) like your own room. He won't provide you furniture so you'll have to ask someone else cough cough Tomas cough choke to get you doll furniture.

He'd probably keep your room on a bedside table. Anything near his bed will do. He does that so he can have his hand near you. Don't worry he doesn't twitch or attack in his sleep so you won't wake up accidentally because he slapped the table.

This stays between you and me BUT he keeps his hand near you to make sure you're safe. If you're in trouble or struggle to fall asleep, you can tap on his hand and he'll be there to help. He'll bitch about it, sorry. But Bi-Han sure can provide you the best back massage with his two fingers so you can sleep peacefully.

Heaven help the poor son of a bitch who accidentally (or purposely) kicks you. You'll be down, a bit sore maybe, and then Bi-Han will come around and--oh look at that it's snowing blood.

Raiden

Ah yes, such a gentleman who unfortunately shocks you a lot.

Raiden needs to be careful with you after he uses his amulet. If you were at a normal human size you wouldn't be shocked by him once he was done with the amulet. But because you're a little bitty you get quite the shock when he touches you.

Oooo, is someone cooking pollo asado? Oh wait, that's just you.

He is totally fine with keeping you on his head and under his hat. It's safe and comfortable. You stay cool while the light seeps in. You could pass out up there while using his head of hair as your bed.

I genuinely believe this man would have doll hairbrushes for you. It's either Barbie hairbrushes or Ever After High hairbrushes. They were definitely borrowed from Johnny.

I feel like Raiden can cook simple meals and he will cook you miniature versions of those meals. Have a mini omelet.

Gently hold the reader in your hands, Raiden, gently hold them. This man has his hands cupped to hold you.

He's not possessive, he is just scared to have others hold you. Especially Kung Lao and Johnny because of how rough they can be.

You know those bunny owners who have a room dedicated to their bunny? Yeah, that's him but with you. You got a whole penthouse on one side of his room. Boujee ass dollhouse accessories and some great rat hammocks.

He likes to have you near when he meditates. He believes it can suppress your devious rat tendencies. If not, then at least Raiden can keep an ear open for you.

No touching the amulet! He reminds you every week. It's either curiosity or pure stupidity that drives you to go near it with your tiny hands.

Some nights...most nights, he lets you sleep on a pillow next to him. He knows not to roll onto you even in his sleep. Raiden likes to have his little lover close to him. You'll get a big goodnight kiss. Dawh :3

Yap notes: Yes, yes, I know I should be celebrating with family but this Christmas Eve hasn't been spectacular. So I spent some of my alone time doing this. Plus, that g/t curse was getting me again. A week of throat problems, a week of nose problems, a week of car and water problems, random bursts of anxiety and blood pressure spiking. Damn Fishii I said I would get to it! I might have a late Christmas gift for you (but with your luck my family might call me names again and I'll end up working on the whole thing tomorrow). To anyone else who might want to ignore family for a bit by reading, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Now if this damn post just works that would be great.

[poppitron360]

*Picture me dressed in the sexy santa costume from Mean Girls and dropping this fic down your chimney. Ho ho ho. Merry Ficmas*

— — — — — — — — —

They were finally alone in the kitchen.

Jason leaned against the side of the counter. Piper leaned against the opposite one, next to her dad’s high-tech induction hob and built-in range hood.

The silence was deafening. The weight of who wasn’t there hung over them- and Piper imagined this was how Annabeth had felt when she’d held up the sky. She’d never known an absence that could feel so… heavy. It was loud, so loud that it drowned out any conversation.

They just sat in silence.

A siren wailed on a distant Los Angeles Highway.

Eventually, Jason spoke.

“We’re still not talking about-“

“I know,” Piper cut him off, not meeting Jason’s eyes, “We’re not.”

“He’s alive, Piper.”

Her heart ached. Jason was so insistent, so determined in his beliefs. His delusions. He was like a hopeful puppy dog, waiting by the door all day for his owner to come home. Piper couldn’t bear to watch his little tail wag expectantly, when she knew it was hopeless.

“Then why isn’t he here?” She asked, her cheek wet with tears, “Why isn’t he home? It’s Christmas day, and- and he’s not here. He should be here, Jason.”

“I know.”

“Then where is he?” Piper finally turned to look at the him “Lost? Stuck? In trouble? Or maybe he just doesn’t-“

The son of Jupiter stayed, standing stiff and arms-crossed, staring determinedly across the kitchen island.

“No,” Jason’s tone was firm.

“I know you’ve had that thought, Jason. H-he-“

“Don’t.”

“If he wanted to disappear, he’d know how. What if… what if he just doesn’t want to come back?”

“No. No. He’s in danger. He needs our help. And we’re just… opening presents? He’s probably off fighting for his life while we laze around drinking eggnog and watching movies. It’s not right. We should be looking for him-“

“We’ve looked, Jason,” Piper snapped, “We’ve looked. I tried another Iris message this morning and nothing. I don’t know why I even bother anymore. He’s not here. He’s gone. He’s never coming back.”

“You don’t know that,” Jason had a stern look in his eyes. He didn’t show it often, but at this moment Piper really did believe he had been raised by wolves.

Piper turned away from him, gripping the high-end quartz worktop until her knuckles turned white. “I can’t with this. I just… can’t. I can’t torture myself with the hoping and waiting. Wondering if he’s just… no. It’s better to believe that he’s dead.”

“I can’t believe you!” Jason’s voice was raised, his tone outraged, “How could you even say that when he could be in trouble? For all we know he could be stuck and calling out for help, he needs us, Piper-“

Piper kept gripping the countertop, staring up at the kitchen cabinets. “Jason, we are not having this argument. Not again. Not at Christmas.”

Piper could hear Jason scowling. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna move on? And forget-“

“Forget?!” Piper cried, finally turning to face him “You think I can forget that explosion? How I watched my best friend- my first real friend- go up in ash and fire?”

“Piper-“

“You think I can forget the months of uncertainty, not knowing if he was okay, if he was in trouble, if somehow that message was faked? You think I can forget his face, his laugh, his stupid little jokes? He is… was my best friend, Jason. Of course I can never forget. I miss him. Every. Day. It’s just… it’s too quiet without him.”

Piper searched and searched, but she couldn’t find the right thing to say to turn herself around. She had the magic voice- she was the encourager, the soother. But here… she was lost. Just lost.

She wanted Jason to wrap his arms around her, and hold her tight.

She broke down sobbing.

Jason stayed there, silent.

— — — — — — — — —

You’d think after a week of these I’d have enough of the Lost Trio, but no.

I know the event is over, but tagging @lost-trio-week anyway because I did technically write this for the event, I just thought of things that would fit the prompts better. Also not technically Lost Trio as they don’t even say Leo’s name (because they can’t bring themselves to. Hahahaha I’m evil) but it’s a fic very much about Leo and the trio’s relationship.

Also happy Christmas (If you celebrate)!! Whether today is a normal day or not, I hope y’all are having a better 25th of December than Jason and Piper are having in the fic. I realise most of you are busy and won’t read this today but I like posting fics on the dates they’re set on. Sue me.

Part 2 showing Leo’s side of this coming tomorrow (and technically my first Caleo fic 🫤)

Also a fic exploring Jason’s feelings looking for Leo coming… soon. Maybe. Or never. It’s still very much a WIP.

@euryvices-deactivated20241019 @deciduowl @lavenderfairiez @ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @m-for-now

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Sky sighed in contentment as he wandered into the ranch. Everyone had been invited for Christmas, and somehow Time and Malon had managed to arrange enough space for the entire group to stay for at least a couple days. He’d happily offered to share his room with anyone, and Legend had agreed to bunk with him.

It worked out well, considering Legend was such a night owl and Sky was just getting home from church at one in the morning.

“So, how was midnight Mass?” Wind asked as he lounged on the sofa, watching a fire crackle on the television.

Warriors elbowed Sky, laughing. “He fell asleep during the homily.”

Sky tried to defend himself, but he really couldn’t, so he just rubbed the back of his head sheepishly with a smile. It wasn’t his fault that he’d just finished his seven night stretch the day before, but he really had been surprised he’d just nodded off in church.

Legend cackled as he sipped on hot cider. “Typical.”

“Oh hush,” Sky grumbled good naturedly, striding towards the kitchen to get himself a helping of the warm beverage. “The music was great and it was very nice, thanks for asking.”

Wild shuffled in behind Warriors, stretching as if he were prepping for a workout. “Well, now it’s time for Christmas cookies!”

“No, sweet heaven above,” Twilight called from upstairs. “You don’t need a sugar rush at one in the morning!”

“Lucky for me, I don’t have to listen to you,” Wild yelled back with a smile, making a beeline for the cookies Malon had baked before she and Time had gone to work for the night. “Besides, didn’t you say you were gonna go to bed early?”

“Come on now, Wild, don’t you know by now that when Malon is gone Twi has to take her place as the Designated Mom?” Legend snorted, cheeks flushed with cheer. “He wanted to stay up until everyone got home safely.”

”Dude, you’re gonna be so freaking tired when you wake up first thing in the morning,” Warriors noted, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

It was too dark upstairs to really make out Twilight in the shadows, so the former military nurse just got a pair of half open eyes staring at him, with the slurred, “I’m already so freaking tired. But it’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to help him cook breakfast anyway,” Wild noted, before adding, “Which gives me all the more right to eat all these cookies.”

“Hey!” Wind immediately leapt off the couch, rushing to the kitchen to go to war for the sacred sugar treats.

Warriors huffed a little, letting his friend upstairs go to bed, and he casually snatched Legend’s mug of cider out of a hands, sipping it. Legend spluttered and hissed at him in response.

“You don’t get any cider, no drinks until tomorrow!” He snapped, taking his mug back.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Warriors huffed, mildly annoyed.

“We made the agreement for you,” Wind called from the kitchen.

“Traitor,” Wars grumbled.

Legend walked towards Sky, who had just armed himself with a mug of cider and was already swaying in place, ready to pass out. “You guys have fun. The rest of us are going to bed.”

”You’re an insomniac,” Sky slurred as Legend started dragging him towards the stairs. “You’re not going to sleep yet.”

“No, but I can make sure Malon and Time’s room is prepped for them, as well as Four’s,” Legend answered easily. “Hyrule should still be up, I think.”

“Yeah, where is Hyrule?” Wind asked, cheeks so stuffed with cookies he looked like a chipmunk. Wild looked similar, and both were ruffled and covered in crumbs after fighting.

“I thought he was sharing a room with Twilight?”

“No, I’m sharing a room with Twilight.”

“He’s got Four’s bedroom, right?”

“He said he was going to walk on the trails in the wooded areas nearby.”

“It’s one in the morning! Has no one seen him?!”

”Twilight!” Warriors called, knowing that he of all people would’ve kept track of everyone while he was gone.

Before the tech could respond, the door to the ranch opened once more to reveal their missing friend. Hyrule walked in cheerily, face flushed from the cold, smiling brightly as he saw everyone. “You’re back! How was church?”

“You were out this whole time?!” Legend asked, incredulous. “Dude, where the hell did you go? You could’ve been mauled by an animal or murdered or—”

“Ledge, you worry too much,” Hyrule laughed. “I was fine. Just taking some time to wander and explore. It’s really pretty with the full moon out. Found some neat stuff, and it gave me time to just… think about things, you know?”

“Wha’ th’ngs?” Wind asked, pieces of cookie flying from his mouth.

Warriors groaned at the teenager. “Dude, that’s disgusting, at least swallow the eighty cookies before you start talking through them—”

“I thought about how thankful I am for all of you,” Hyrule said quietly, looking down shyly. But then he smirked, putting his hands on his hips. “But I also thought of some great games.”

Sky opened his mouth to acknowledge Hyrule’s quiet statement, but he was interrupted when Wild eagerly asked, “What games? Tell me twister’s one of them because I am so excited to watch everyone try that.”

“Okay, yes, but also… Reverse Mistletoe,” Hyrule said sagely.

”What’s that?”

”We hide mistletoe everywhere, but if you’re stuck under one you have to spray somebody with a flush instead of kissing them.”

“Uh, Rulie, we’d need flushes for that,” Wind noted.

Warriors barked out a laugh. “Wind, we all horde flushes. Legend probably has twenty in his scrub pocket from last night’s shift.”

“Twenty-two, actually,” Legend corrected nonchalantly.

“Also,” Hyrule continued. “Bullshit is a great game. It’s a card game.”

“We should play that now!” Wild suggested happily, looking around for a deck of cards.

Sky hummed happily in agreement, shuffling towards Hyrule before getting redirected once more by Legend. “No, you’re going to bed.”

The pilot was tempted to argue, but honestly, he knew he’d be asleep no matter where he ended up. He might as well rest somewhere comfortable.

Sky passed out quickly after heading to his room, and though the others stayed awake for a while longer, peace started to settle over the house. Candlelight kept the playing cards visible enough as contenders hissed insults and jokes in equal measure at each other, and after Wind had managed to win two games in a row, Warriors eventually suggested everyone get some sleep.

By morning, Time and Malon dragged their feet through the front door, following Four closely as the three exchanged warm but tired greetings.

”Did you guys get any of the Christmas dinner from the cafeteria?” Malon asked.

Time shrugged. “I think I fell asleep in the on-call room too early for that. And then the code woke me up.”

Four sighed. “The code was my patient, so no. But Dot brought me some to munch on throughout the night.”

The three stopped as they smelled breakfast being made, and they automatically were drawn to the kitchen. They passed through the dining room first to see everything set up for a veritable feast, and Wild peeked his head into the area.

“Merry Christmas!” He greeted, and Malon pulled him into a hug.

Exhaustion won out in the group over prolonged conversation, but the food was warm and the company was even better. Twilight and Wild ate with them and then quickly set back to keeping the rest of the food warm and cleaning dishes, allowing the three to shower and go to bed.

The large group trickled in and out of hte dining area, eating at varying points, Sky waking up last, before they all lounged in the den. Hyrule, Wild, Wind, and Twilight played Twister (Hyrule then planned to hide mistletoe all over the house alongside strategically placed flushes), while Warriors and Legend sat on the couch and recliner, respectively, reading books. Sky threw a pillow down on the sofa beside Wars, wrapping himself up in a blanket, belly full and ready for another nap.

It wasn’t the wild or merry Christmas morning that might traditionally fill homes, and very few words were exchanged, but it was peaceful, and that was enough for them. Eventually, the night shift crew would awaken, Time descending the stairs first, and the real fun would begin.

[woodle-isbae]

Hi hi.. i noticed requests were open for Arcane i thought i ask for one.

>_< I was wondering if you were willing to write about a chubby squishy reader who absolutely adores Sevika and loves cooking/baking for her?

The acts of service love language; fixing the small things Sevika might complain about. But she absolutely refuses and gets all blushy to admit or say “I do it because I love you.” Might even have little playful banters where reader says something like: “no no I’m cooking this to absolutely poison you. Gonna steal your gambling money!” Then proceeds to make the most nutritious thing she can cuz her huge gf has new wounds from bar fights.

if Sevika gets fed up and tries to tease the “ILY” outta reader would be nice. 🙈

You can write this as hc or with anyone that feels more comfortable for you ofc. I think maybe Vi would be more fitting? 🫶🏻

Hope it’s an acceptable request.

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Cw: Hybrid! Fem! Reader, slight mean! Sevika, Sevika is all Gushy around Reader, wuh luh wuh, chubby! reader.

Mixed request☆

🎄 Sevika would come home to a fully made Christmas meal, Gingerbread house and candy canes lined up on the dinner table.

🎄She would get a little pissy over the fact you did it all alone, but her mood changes when she realized- You did all this...for her.

🎄Sevika who would constantly pester you over the fact you made her a whole feast, acting like a high-school girl when she took a bite into the warm and juicy Ham, giggling even more when you helped her build Another gingerbread house.

🎄You offered to invite Jinx and Isha- but they were already having Christmas with Ekko. Ultimately cuddling up with Sevika infront of the warm fire with some hot chocolate and gnawing on some Candy canes.

"You did all this for mee?"

You giggled at how giddy she was, slapping her shoulder gently and sitting up.

"Uh..no, I made it all for me- you just happen to live with me, which means you also have to get some I guess."

"Yeah alright Pussy-Cat."

She stood up before you could say or do anything, leaving you to let her words soak in.

"SEVIKA!"

🎄Sevika who leaves you alone in the house once again, not even bothering to tell you where she was going.

🎄She could completely trust you all alone, even though most of Zaun knew who you were and your affiliation with Silco's right hand, she trusts your hybrid instincts would help you incase anything happened.

🎄Sevika who came back later than you both predicted, everything was already packed away and the whole house cleaned.

🎄She had decided to leave you little gift under the Christmas tree that Jinx and Isha built earlier In the month, a note with your name in bold sat next to the box.

🎄Sevika, being the asshole that she is, shook you out of your sleep and dragged you to the living room. Thankfully the room was still warm enough for you to be in just your Pajamas.

"Open it."

You were quite skeptical, knowing she wouldn't wake you up unless it was very Very important or an emergency.

You messed around with the poorly wrapped paper and ribbon on top While Sevika occupied herself with the sway of your tail and twitch of curiosity in your ears.

You opened the box, being met with a strange shaped object which was Also wrapped, only letting out a sigh as Sevika giggled from behind you.

As the final piece of paper was removed, you let out a gasp and jumped up from the floor to stare at your partner in shock. She had gotten you (Christmas gift of your choice), pushing herself off the couch and strutting towards you smuggly.

🎄She knew how much you wanted it, and knew how hard it was to get in Zaun- so she pulled some strings and had it delivered straight to her..for you!

"Shh Shh, don't have to tell me how amazing I am."

"But why? This probably cost you an arm- no pun intended- and a leg!"

You giggled a bit before focusing back on the conversation. Placing the gift down and hugging the much larger woman, her hand gripped at the plush of your ass and bit the soft cheek on your face, earning an 'ow!' From you.

"It's really nothing compared to the whole feast you cooked up."

You huffed and rolled you eyes, shoving her a bit too.

"Vika, I only cook for you because I love you, you work so much and get hurt too! I made that meal so you could properly fuel up and mabye not come home so beat up."

🎄Sevika who stood there for a moment before laughing, not at what you had said but at what she accomplished. Grabbing you by the side of your head and pulling you in for a kiss.

"HA!! I got you to say why you did it- and you love me?"

you had stared at her I disbeliefed and a bit hurt that she would laugh after sharing your feelings.

"What...say what.?"

"I love you!"

"I love you too Vika."

The room had gone quiet, both of you staring at eachother- you more giddy while Sevika raised a brow.

"Okay, you got me there.."

🎄Sevika who tried to fight less for you, still expecting your amazing meals thought. She'd come home and make you count if she had any new wounds and how severe they are- probably got an earful from you if she had any new ones.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to eat a golden cow me and my crew found on an island after I attacked my captain for sacrificing 6 of our men?

Okay, so—I'm an adult man. I've been away at sea for a long while, twenty years in fact. The reason I left so many years ago was because I was sent off to fight the Trojans in a war. It was tense, and anxiety inducing as shit—but somehow we won because our captain managed to get us through it all. My captain (who I'll just call O for this story) is someone I've known for a long time. He's the brother of my wife, and we've been close for a very long time now. But, like.. okay, hold on, let me just keep explaining.

So, after we win the war—and after he apparently drops a baby off a tower because the mighty sky God Zeus told him to, we head out at sea. But I find out we have no food supplies. So I go to tell him we ran out. His response—'Oh, no worries! Let's just watch where the birds fly and see where they go so we can find somewhere to hunt food'. I think—'Okay, okay, kinda reasonable'. We find an island, and one of our scouts (who I'll call P) says he sees an island in the distance. But we see this weird glowing shit that we think is fire? So I decide to suggest we raid the place just to make sure there's no time to waste. But O refuses, and decides to straight up head into the island with P alone so they can find food themselves and so no one ends up dead. I'm thinking we don't actually know what's gonna happen, but.. hey! Hey, he's the captain here, right? Better to trust him. So he goes in. He comes back. Apparently these weird ass fucking alien things told them there was a cave to find food, so we search for it. We find it. We head inside. There's a bunch of fucking sheep everywhere, but hey! Free food, right? So we kill one. Then this MOTHERFUCKING CYCLOPS comes out. Not even kidding! Not even kidding—it comes out, and is like 'You killed my sheep.. it was my favorite.. blah blah blah'—and proceeds to LITERALLY ALMOST KILL MY CAPTAIN!! IM THINKING—HEY! MY CAPTAIN WILL GET US OUT OF THIS! AND HE TRIES! HE OFFERS THIS THING WINE THAT IT TAKES FOR SOME REASON, TELLS IT HIS NAME IS 'NOBODY', AND IM THINKING—MAYBE WE'LL GET OUT OF THIS! HA! NO! NO, IT PROCEEDS TO MURDER SEVERAL OF OUR MEN WITH OUR CLUB. SO WE'RE FREAKING THE FUCK OUT! BUT WE ATTACK ANYWAY. LONG STORY SHORT, P FUCKING GETS CRUSHED AND DIES. WE ESCAPE. BUT HEY, WE NEED FOOD EVEN THOUGH ALL OUR FRIENDS ARE DEAD, SO WE GO BACK IN AND BLIND THE THING! IT STARTS LIKE CRYING FOR SOME REASON?? AND THEN WE HEAR THESE OTHER DISTORTED VOICES WHO TURN OUT TO BE OTHER CYCLOPSES! WHO ARE THE LITERAL SIBLINGS OF THE CYCLOPS WE FOUGHT. I'M PANICKING AND THINKING WE SHOULD RUN, BUT NOOOOO.. turns out the Nobody thing ended up working though because the other Cyclops bitches left. So we go to get the sheep and leave. But then the captain turns right back around for some reason, and starts LITERALLY YELLING AT THE THING!! HE EVEN SAYS HIS NAME, THE NAME OF HIS KINGDOM, AND BASICALLY ENDANGERS EVERYONE JUST CUZ HE WAS BEING LIKE 'HEY BITCH LOL GET FUCKED YOU GOT SPARED BY A KING'. BUT I DONT SAY ANYTHING CUZ I GOTTA BE LOYAL, RIGHT??

I.. I don't even think I can say everything he did here to be honest. This man did so much shit! He willingly goes up to this weird ass island in the sky and gets help from a wind god who keeps whispering to all of us to open the bag—and I try to resist, but I can't cuz of the weird ass god magic shit, so I open the bag! We get blown all the way back to the 'Land of the Giants'. TURNS OUT THE MOTHERFUCKING GOD OF THE SEA HIMSELF IS THE CYCLOPSES DAD! HE KILLS HUNDREDS OF OUR MEN. BUT WR STILL HAVE THE WIND BAG SO O OPENS IT AND WE LAND AT THIS ISLAND THAT BELONGS TO A SORCERESS WHO TURNED OUR MEN INTO PIGS!! O GOES TO SAVE THEM EVEN THOUGH I'M LIKE 'Dude you're gonna fucking die you don't even know what she can do' AND SOMEHOW SUCCEEDS!! WE GO TO THE UNDERWORLD. I SEE P AND O'S MOM IN THERE. IM TRAUMATIZED. AND AFTER WE SEE THIS WEIRD ASS DRUG DEALER LOOKING PROPHET GUY, O SUDDENLY HAS A ANIME VILLAIN ARC MOMENT AND SHOUTS ABOUT HOW HES GONNA BE A MONSTER NOW. WE SAIL OUT. WE FIND SIRENS, SO WE KILL 'EM! BUT HE ORDERS WE 'CUT OFF THEIR TAILS AND LET THEM DROWN'!! CUZ THATS TOTALLY A SANE THING TO DO!! AND THEN WE SAIL THROUGH THE LAIR OF SCYLLA. I ADMIT I OPENED THE BAG CUZ I FELT KINDA BAD TO BE HONEST. O IS LIKE 'Ay man it's cool just take this torch real quick', SO I DO! SIX OF OUR MEN, ALL OF WHICH WERE HOLDING TORCHES (I THREW ONE DOWN WHEN I REALIZED WHAT WAS HAPPENING), PROCEED TO LITERALLY DIE. SO WHEN WE LEAVE AND I REALIZE HE JUST KILLED OUR MEN, I'M LIKE 'HEY MAN WHAT THE HELL???'. HES LIKE 'NAH BITCH I CANT SAY ANYTHING', SO I'M LIKE 'DUDE FUCK YOU' AND I START FIGHTING HIM! ONE OF OUR CREW MEMBERS STABS HIM AS HE LITERALLY THROWS ME TO THE GROUND. AND AFTER HES OUT, I HAVE TO CONVINCE EVERYONE NOT TO KILL HIM. WE FIND AN ISLAND WITH COWS. WE GET THERE AND TIE HIM UP. THEN WHEN O WAKES UP AS IM ABOUT TO KILL A COW, HE HAS THE AUDACITY TO BEG ME NOT TO KILL IT EVEN THOUGH WE HAVENT HAD FOOD IN SEVERAL WEEKS! I'M DESPERATE AT THIS POINT, RIGHT? SO I DONT LISTEN AND STAB IT. HE STARTS YELLING AT ME AFTER, SAYING WE'RE ALL DOOMED. WE RUN BACK TO THE SHIFT AS THE SKY GOES CRAZY WITH THUNDER. ZEUS SHOWS UP! I GET BLASTED CUZ O CHOOSES US TO DIE INSTEAD OF HIMSELF. AND NOW IM STUCK IN THE UNDERWORLD WRITING THIS..

God.. I feel like I'm talking to a therapist. Point is—am I the asshole?

[raylazuko]

So when I accidentally see ships I don’t like even with blocked tags, I’ll just block the poster. No offense and don’t take it personally, idgaf what you do but I curate my feed to my own comfort. Also if you start drama or are an ahole about it.

Id say I’m neutral because making either pro or anti your whole personality is just weird. There are ships I don’t like but as long as it isn’t lolisha shit im not gonna fight over it. Ship what you like and be mindful of ones that make others uncomfortable and the language used and don’t be mad when people block or disengage with it. But also don’t harass people for what they ship the stupidity goes both ways.

[moe-broey]

Also making a separate appreciation post for Moe GRISPING HIM. READY TO ATTACK. LUNGE and KILL‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

And Alfonse doesn't even flinch, he just goes

And braces for impact.

Also also ADDITIONAL APPRECIATION. FOR

Woulgh.

Was just gonna tag ramble BUT. NO. MAIN POST. I'm SUCH A FAN of the faces here. Moe's delayed reaction time, or just. Having really neutral reactions to getting scuffed up or the like. Autism creature. COMBINED with Alfonse's overt panic and instant like REFLEXIVE instinct to catch Moe. LIKE REALLY REALLY FUN pose in general!!!!! But ALSO. THEY'RE SO. EXPLODES 💥💥💥💥💥

[starlight---starbrights]

Undertale yellow flowey embroidery

This took about 40 hours, give or take a few

[tsuchinokoroyale]

[essektheylyss]

I changed my discord status to "Only YOU can create forest fires!" with the This Is Fine dog emoji during the Candela episode, and it is admittedly very funny with regards to my dnd games this weekend, in the first of which I was aggressively pushing for arson in the middle of the Colorado wilderness, and in the second of which I have been emphatically told not to further assault a tree.

[wangquan-fugui]

my manager is not my friend my manager is not my friend my manager is not my friend

[innytoes]

Willie Ship of your choice and Pokemon AU?

The problem with living in a town with a gym, Reggie thought, was that every passing by would-be Pokemon master thought literally everyone with a Pokemon wanted to battle. It was exhausting. Especially when they wouldn't take no for an answer.

Listen, was it stupid for Reggie to try and punch out a Geodude? Yes, but it was better than trying to punch out a twelve year old. Probably. The twelve year old probably wouldn't have given him what felt like a black eye. And he had to act fast, because the Pokemon had been rapidly approaching his cowering Jolteon.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Alex asked as he came to on what appeared to be a park bench. It wasn't very comfy, except for his head, which was pillowed on something.

"That Sparky is a rescue, and if she doesn't want to fight, she shouldn't have to," he said, gently petting the Jolteon who was nuzzling her nose under his hand anxiously. "It's okay baby, nobody's going to hurt you."

Both of Reggie's Pokemon were rescues. His very first, a Growlithe puppy he'd found out in the rain when he was fifteen, was a constant companion. Reggie wasn't sure what had happened to it before he got him, but Buddy didn't particularly like fighting. He shied away from battles, and it took Reggie ages to realise why he always cowered behind his legs in a certain part of town. The part near the gym.

They'd worked on that, and getting his confidence up in general. Buddy was a happy Pokemon now, though he still didn't like battles. The only time Reggie had ever seen him fight was to protect Reggie, and to help him kick Sparky's owner's ass. Anyone that would raise his hand against his own Pokemon didn't deserve them. They did, however, deserve a black eye, a stolen Jolteon, and singed pair of jeans.

With a groan, he sat up, laughing when Buddy hopped on the bench and started anxiously licking at his face. "I'm okay, Bud," he promised. "What happened? Did Whitney put them to sleep?" That was their usual strategy, when trainers wouldn't stop bothering them. You couldn't start a Pokemon fight if you were too asleep to grab your Pokeballs.

Alex' emotional support Jigglypuff chirped at him from Alex' backpack.

"I was going to, but..."

"Yeah, sorry, Ziggy and I stepped in first," a new voice said from behind him. Reggie turned and blinked. Apparently, the comfortable thing his head had been pillowed on was this gorgeous stranger's lap. He had beautiful long dark hair, killer cheekbones, and just about the cutest Zigzagoon Reggie had ever seen draped over his shoulders like a fancy stole.

"I- uh- that's..." Really hot, Reggie wanted to say.

Sparky nudged his hand again, pointy fur prickling under his fingers. "Thanks," Reggie managed. He looked up at Alex, who seemed equally flustered at this hot stranger who just rocked up and saved them both, and then waited with them until Reggie regained consciousness.

"Are you... a trainer?" Reggie asked, carefully. He didn't seem to have any Pokeballs on his belt, just the Zigzagoon wrapped around his neck. But if he defeated that kid's entire arsenal, that Zigzagoon was probably powerful as heck.

"No," the guy said quickly. Ziggy nuzzled his cheek gently. "I... not anymore. Ziggy and I are just... travelling."

"Thank you for saving us," Alex said sincerely.

"If you're new in town," Reggie said, not wanting the guy to leave now that he was awake again. "Maybe we could show you the best places to get food?"

The man's guarded look changed into a beautiful smile. "I'd like that, yeah," he agreed. "I'm Willie."

In the end, Willie decided to stick around a lot longer than he planned, and Reggie and Alex never had to worry about pushy Pokemon Trainers again. Their boyfriend and his badass Zigzagoon had them covered.

[keeps-ache]

oo the world..! such a questionable place

[hauntingblue]

Kaido lore?!

[snowyfrostshadows]

Third Act Breakup