#and i hope this comic shows how hes been hanging in there by a thread lol

[distant-velleity]

when the clock strikes midnight, then the spell will wear off . . .

a short comic about a certain transmigrator and his overblot :)

[neoyi]

We've reached a point in our lives where nostalgic bait is at an all-time high. From the thousands of reboots; remakes; and sequels to beloved cult classics from the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s, it is shameful how many of these we have, all varying in terms of quality and almost always with the intent to pocket money off of us peons.

What can I say? We were desperate for anything because we hardly ever got anything back then.

Even the darling favorite of many a fandom back in the mid-2000s, Avatar: The Last Airbender, was hurting for merch back in the days. And Danny Phantom's was practically non-existent. It is astonishing this comic exists, but not at all surprising because now, Nickelodeon knows to cash in on the products that fans have carried a torch for decades later.

I'm sounding really cynical here, I know. And while Ol' Nicky is seeing dollar signs, it is worth noting A Glitch in Time was clearly made with the most utmost love and respect for the show. Gabriela Epstein gave so much of a damn crafting this near 200-page behemoth, covering almost 90% of the hanging plot points the show never got the time to answer and simultaneously wiping off the backwards series finale that left a bad taste in a lot of people's mouth.

Like altogether, this comic explored Danny's story and what his purpose is post-"PP", Vlad's redemption arc, Pariah King's artifacts (and why Vlad was collecting them), and Dark Danny's return, all while working around a plausible narrative that retooled "PP" using time manipulation and newfound lore. And it's amazing how seamless it flows.

This comic isn't just incredible, it's a miracle.

And in spite of all that, the author still had the balls to leave some of the dangling plot threads and character arcs unfinished for a potential sequel hook, as if they knew this comic would sell enough to justify one.

Well, as of this writing, this motherfucker is still the #1 top seller in Amazon's all-age for graphic novels. Fool on me to rely purely on that hell site's sale counts to accurately know how well it did, but I imagine that's pretty damn good. If you had told me years ago anything DP-related beyond lame ass Box Lunch shirts would officially come out of the woodwork, I would have laughed. That the possibility of a second comic book seem plausible would be chuckly-worthy, but now... damn, I think it genuinely could happen.

And I hope it does, because A Glitch in Time still finishes with a couple of snags left to untangle.

The first major incident is the controversial matter of a one Miss Danielle Phantom. Now that Vlad has been given a second chance to raise a child, and do it right this time, what does that mean for Danny's clone? How will she feel knowing Vlad has changed? Or that he has a son? Would he have been a better father by the time she flies back to Amity Park? What has this kid been up to in the few years since "PP?" How would Danielle feel when she reunites with a Vlad that looks to be genuinely trying? Distrustful on his true intention? Angry that this man had the gull to change? Jealous that Dark Danny had Vlad's unconditional love when his fatherly affection is all Danielle ever wanted?

Dani is never mentioned at any point in the comic, with any hints that she still exists the Danny clones lingering in Vlad's secret base. I understand why she wouldn't be relevant for this comic. Dark Danny, for one, is such a huge entity that an entire spotlight dedicated to him and him alone would be worthy of a full graphic novel. But Dani's existence, her dilemma as a lone wanderer with only a distant relationship with Danny, and the unresolved tension between her and Vlad means her story is worthy of a full comic, too.

Now that Vlad is on the path of redemption with promises to be a better person and a father, his relationship with Danielle is going to invite a lot of questions, conflicts, and hurt feelings before it presumably and hopefully treads into happier paths. And Danny is likely gonna be stuck playing the awkward monkey-in-the-middle family member in all this. But damn, the setup is there.

The other Big Huge Plot left is Valerie.

In her last major role prior to this comic, Valerie was confronted with a moral dilemma: will she take the life of a human if said human is a half-ghost? Danny, in desperation, had to confess to Valerie that Dani is a half-ghost, meaning Valerie would have the blood of an actual mortal on her hands should she kill her.

And mind, this was the best Danny could do. We've seen that ghosts in DP are their own species with their own (dead) lives and free will. I'm not sure if Valerie has killed any ghosts or if she's just thermos'ed them back into the Ghost Zone, but her unscrupulous and, by the end of the show, downright brutal nature, seem to imply if she hadn't already murdered any ghosts, then she's more than willing to should the issue arise.

And so we have Val in A Glitch in Time, still doing her ghost hunting thing (her father hasn't been seen since season two, is he okay with her doing this or is she hunting ghosts regardless of any concerns he might have), a job I'm sure she's positively thriving in now that Amity Park is gung-ho for some ghostbustin'.

Indeed, though she's not as prominent as the main trio and Vlad, Valerie gets enough time in the spotlight to meet Dark Danny. In a particularly brilliant callback, she gets a couple of one-on-one battles with Dark Danny, with both the tone and even color scheme echoing so much of what her alternate, older counterpart has countered with Dark Danny from that timeline.

And I'm sure Dark Danny is just thrilled at the deja vu.

The damning part is how Valerie reacts when she realizes Dark Danny is, well, Danny.

Keep in mind, this is post-"Phantom Planet." This is post-Valerie has known Danny Phantom is Fenton. She says this after knowing the town's hero was a fellow student she once liked and dated, and whom she nearly gave up her ghost hunting career for.

Yeah.

This has implication.

Valerie's first reaction to meeting a future Dark Danny is to straight up tell him, "you're evil." Is that how she felt about Danny Fenton after "Phantom Planet?" Did she feel betrayed that the boy she fell for was secretly half-ghost? Did she feel manipulated into saving Dani? Given the exceptional story Gabriela Epstein has expertly crafted, this one piece of dialogue cannot, under any circumstances, be accidental.

Valerie saying this straight up to Danny fuckin' Fenton after everything that has transpired is one of the biggest bomb drops in A Glitch in Time.

The end of the comic implies she remembers the old timeline, meaning she's still aware of Fenton as Phantom. The tragedy of her character is that Valerie has always been strictly one-minded in her goal. Her downright hatred for ghosts and the absolute destruction of Amity Park before Clockwork fixed everything means in her eyes, she has justifiable cause to kill Danny Fenton. The current Danny Fenton. After all, if he is capable of turning into Dark Danny, then why shouldn't she get rid of him before it's too late?

Valerie is also intricately connected to Dani through "D-Stabilized", meaning there could be a way to tie all of these into another Big Damn Comic Book down the line. And while I had problems with how Valerie's dialogue was written in that episode (sounding deviously supervillainy as oppose to her feeling like her actions are justified), having her as the central villain in the next book sounds about right.

I've always been opposed to the idea of Valerie being an outright baddie (as oppose to a just being a dangerous obstacle), but the potential dynamic and high stakes tension for her to be the biggest obstacle to Danny, Dani, and Vlad (since she also knows what the latter is, too) in her pursuit to kill all ghosts and protect her home has nuances and character exploration that I think Gabriela Epstein is more than capable of dissecting.

Whatever the outcome may be, should another DP graphic novel come to light, I, for once in so many, many, many years, look forward to it.

[jesscmy]

As always, this doesn’t have to be a hard and fast rule depending on individual verses and threads, but because it’s Spooky Season and Spooky Season inevitably means rewatching The Witch, already a big influence on Jessamy, I’m thinking a bit harder on Jessamy’s first mortal life, death and how she ended up a raven.

Combining some comics details with show details, ravens generally are mortals who died often while doing something arguably occult - like comics!Matthew and Anton Arcane and the whole possession thing (even though I know ultimately in the comics, he died dreaming and that’s the reason he’s a raven). For Jessamy, I headcanon that she was hanged for being a witch and while she was attempting to dabble, she was not actually very powerful or successful. 

Jessamy started on that path because she was trapped in a society where she felt isolated and sad - Much like Tomasin in The Witch, maximum ascetic lifestyle may have been a way of life for Puritans, but that doesn’t mean there’s no chafing for more especially when you’re largely told that if you’re damned, you’re damned and there’s nothing to do about it other than to pray 24/7 and hope that you’re not damned. 

So who tempts Jessamy? 

Let’s imagine it was actually Lucifer. 

Jessamy does what she does - signs the Devil’s book like everyone in 1600s Massachusetts was afraid pretty young girls would do, is caught and hanged. Lucifer is expecting to get something out of that in terms of a soul in hell, a demon, something not great, only for Death to intercede and make her a raven who is put right into service for Dream, himself. 

Lucifer wouldn’t forget that fact, and frankly, it’s just annoying and something to be mad about on principle as opposed to being super important. But when Jessamy dies again rather than collecting on her soul or what have you, Lucifer is the one to revive her, potentially put her back in Dream’s path, and hope that fucks Dream over in the end.

((I have similar ideas for the resurrection being Desire, Destiny, Death or Despair’s doing, but for now, have this!))

[lovelybarnes]

for the one-shot

tired eyes , bucky

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of shuri warnings: mentions of cryo and death (but no actual descriptions) about: tired eyes a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long to post! i got so busy and i had a really bad day and didn't have any time to edit. i hope you enjoy this either way!

“...in other news, a baby penguin was born at the national zoo yesterday, and the subway goats that i told you about were captured, so that’s good for everyone really,” you laugh, skimming through the rest of the words printed on the newspaper you’re holding. the fingers holding it begin to rub at the edges subconsciously, pressing indents into the typed letters while you flip the page once you’re satisfied that the contents of that one were already summarized. “okay, these are comics and crosswords, so i’ll wait for you on these,” you say, eyes catching on the colored squares, chuckling at the images of snoopy. “i think you’ll like snoopy. you probably haven’t gotten to read much on him since he was created in the fifties, so i’ll save all the snoopy bits for you if you’d like.”

no answer, which you were expecting, but the longing for his voice grows either way, exhaling softly and closing the newspaper you were reading from, bold letters forming the date. you look at the books piled next to your chair, reminding yourself to replace the ones you’ve already read. “so, shuri says she’s close to figuring this out. she thinks you’ll be out of cryo this month, so that’s exciting!”

your smile struggles to stay as a thick silence falls on you and you swallow, looking down at your lap, “um, i-” you clear your throat, forcing your eyes to meet the frozen man. “i don’t know if you can even hear me,” you admit, a small watery laugh falling from your lips. “i can’t really bring myself to ask shuri, because i really hope you can and i don’t know how i’ll do if i find out you can’t. i hope you know how much i love you, and-” you sniffle, squeezing your eyes shut, “and how much i miss you. and how much i know you’ll be okay.”

you smile tearfully, wiping away tears that escape your eyes, watching them soak your sleeve. you run your finger over the fabric, bringing it up to your nose and shutting your eyes shut when you realize the red henley doesn’t smell like bucky anymore. although the rational part of your mind reminds you it's been two years and you’ve been wearing the piece of clothing for most of it. the rest of his clothes also lack his smell, worn so much by you that your perfume seems embedded with the cotton.

“you know how much i miss your eyes?” you ask suddenly, the image of them engraved in the caves of your happiest memories. “you have such pretty eyes- i know i tell you that a lot, but it’s true.” echoes of the azure colors lucky enough to reside in bucky’s irises flood the darkness of your closed eyelids. “they were the first thing i noticed when i met you,” you sniffle, “so blue. it looked like they were glowing in the sun. i completely forgot about the plums i accidentally stole from you.”

“do you remember that?” you question, opening your eyes to see the same image from last time. “i just gave you the plums and stuttered like an idiot. then, when i tried to leave because i was so mortified, you stopped me. i got a really good look at you that time. so handsome,” you pause. “but so tired.”

his image is vivid in your mind, clear enough to combat the actual photographs of him that lay everywhere in your apartment. “you looked so tired, bucky,” you admit, “and i didn’t even know what happened yet- what you had gone through- and all i wanted to do from that point was kiss all that pain away. let you rest until the exhaustion wasn’t clouding the color of your eyes.” your fingers twitch, itching to tangle with his own- desperate to hold him after so long.

physical touch was something bucky struggled with when you both met. his skin was unused to gentle touches, always expecting the worst when your fingertips came in contact with any of him; you showed him gentle touches, tender fingers dragging on his jaw in the morning, careful kisses pressed to his nose to wake him up.

“let me do that when you’re out of there, yeah?” you request, playing with your hands to distract from their want to hold his. “you deserve to just... be, bucky. you deserve to be happy, and i swear i’ll make sure it’s the only thing you’ll ever feel again.” you go silent, picking apart your tangled thoughts and attempting to make sentences of them.

“y/n.”

it takes you a while to notice the voice, its echo reaching you, prying your attention away from bucky. “shuri,” you realize, mouth moving faster than your brain as it falls behind to realize what exactly shuri might be doing here. “it’s ready- he can come out today.”

your eyebrows furrow, the words foggy as your brain decides to take them in late, examining them for their meaning too many seconds after silence has been hanging in the air, waiting for you to break its delicate thread. “what?” you finally say after a moment, not looking for an answer while you jump from your seat, ignoring the items you’d handpicked as they fall to the floor, clatters ignored while you bounce to shuri, “really? he can- it’s really ready?”

shuri nods, beaming smile as the reaction she was hoping for bounds out of you, albeit a bit later than she’d expected. you’ve turned, eyes on bucky now as your anticipation grows, arms motioning towards him gently, “well, then… please- please,” you beg, unable to finish the plead that shuri already knows.

-

your fingernails are in between your teeth from the waiting- a nasty habit bucky had helped you break thanks to his wrapped hands around yours- foot tapping incessantly on the floor beneath you. you have absolute trust in shuri and wakanda’s technology, but the worry grows when you stare at the chamber bucky was once in, bright cerulean of his eyes hidden from yours.

every cell of your body is screaming for him, and it might be embarrassing how much you miss him if it were a different situation, a different man with different eyes.

ayo is with him, observing him while the wretched words are said, and every passing second makes your fear grow worse- that he would go back into cryo, that he wouldn’t ever touch you again, too afraid he’d hurt you with the same stained hands with which he’d hurt others.

you shut your eyes again and took a deep breath, feeling your lungs expand and focusing on that.

“y/n,” he interrupts, the cracked word bringing the air you had been missing for so long, eyes opening as quickly as they could and a sob falling from your throat when you stand. “bucky,” you snivel, foot already stepping closer to him before you can instruct it to. you pause for a second to make sure bucky is okay with it, against the will of every voice in your mind and muscle in your body. the man nods, stepping towards you instead and immediately warming you with his embrace. you reciprocate immediately, winding your arms around him while his flesh arm pulls you as close as he can.

“bucky,” you weep, pushing your face into the crook of his neck and crying harder when your nose touches his warm skin and the soft strands of his hair. bucky only pulls away for a moment to look at you, gentle thumb brushing away your tears. you cradle his face in your hand, scanning every feature continuously until you reach his eyes and your breath catches at the brilliant color, realizing the dark sheen of exhaustion was gone, his tired eyes were no longer as tired, offering solid possibility that at some point, they wouldn’t be at all.

[admiral-alby]

bob fic recs galore

here’s the fruits of my labour. a working fic rec master-post containing multiple bob ships and many, many amazing fics. the writers in this fandom are absolutely incredible and their talent astounds me every time I read a new fic. all the kudos to y’all. keep on keeping on!

this is a long post. recs and some general notes are under the cut :)

(04/13/21) I’ll do my best to keep this list updated... or I’ll make a part 2 depending on length. if anyone has any recs that are not already listed in this post, please please message me! this is no way an exhaustive list and I’m sure I missed some fantastic fics out there - to get started I mostly just plucked from my bookmarks. I’d be happy to add on new fics for ANY pairing, rare-pairs included. I don’t really have much for rare-pairs in this rec because I haven’t read much yet but that will change soon when I have some more time on my hands to get into them  :)

if you are an author on this list and you would like your work removed from it, please just message me. no explanation necessary I will take it off asap.

I’ll make the disclaimer that while I tried to include some general information about each fic, I did not include tags/warnings. so if you choose a fic, read the tags and proceed at your own discretion.

 @capsparkyspeirs   you’re a lovely human being and this is probably not what you were imagining when I said I’d be happy to rec some fics for you. I admit it got a little out of hand but there’s so many great fics out there I couldn’t stand to choose just a couple to send your way... so you get them all! you inspired me to do this, so this is for you and anyone else who wants to read some great fics but doesn’t know where to start <3

WINNIX (RICHARD WINTERS/LEWIS NIXON)

Long Ago and Far Away (Canon Winnix) by churchkey (Series) Rated T-E / Canon Era / 18013 Words (Total) / 4 Parts / Not Complete

Summary: “A few scenes exploring how Dick and Lew became the timeless cosmic lovers they were born to be.“

*Each part can be read as a stand-alone!

It Happened One Night by raquelelpillo Rated M / Groundhog Day AU / 7704 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Nixon gets the chance to do the day before the big jump over and over and over (or, Every Fandom Needs Groundhog's Day Fic).”

Finding Our Way in the Dark by rilla Rated E / Canon Era / Soulmate AU / 8477 Words / Complete

Summary: “After Dick and Lew share their first kiss in Austria, they open their eyes to find a golden thread binding their wrists together.“

Mutual by miss_grey Rated G / Canon Era / 2105 Words / Complete

Summary: “Dick couldn’t help wondering to himself when exactly Nix had decided that Dick’s personal space had become their mutual space.“

Let Me Be Close by armyofbees  Rated G / Canon Era (Post-War) / 8679 Words / Complete

Summary: “Five things Nix loves about Dick, and one thing Dick loves about Nix.Or,The thing about Nix, Dick is beginning to learn, is that he doesn’t love in halves. Nix loves with everything in him, and sometimes that means moving to the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania for Dick. Sometimes it means making spaghetti with him because Dick came to New Jersey and planted tomatoes, of all things. Sometimes it means telling without saying.”

Let’s Start the New Year Right by slightlytookish Rated G / Canon Era (Post-War) / 10523 Words / Complete

Summary: “Nix had always been able to pick Dick out of a crowd, even when he was lying on his belly in the dirt two hundred yards away, squinting through binoculars at an entire company of men wearing identical uniforms. It was easier to spot him in the crush of people inside Penn Station, even out of the familiar uniform: the same tall figure, the same bright hair, the same way he always seemed to find Nix just as easily and turn towards him, like an arrow on a compass.”

Lancaster County by raquelelpillo Rated T / AU / 31500 Words / 17 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “Nix is born later. Dick is there. (AU). Set in the summer of 1942 in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”

**It is part of a series with the other works being small ‘extras’ set through the story. This is the main work. It ends a bit ambiguously.

SPEIRTON (RONALD SPEIRS/CARWOOD LIPTON)

The Desolate House by Howling_Harpy Rated E / Canon Era (Post-War) / 26672 Words / Complete

Summary: “It's been fifteen years since Carwood has last seen or spoken to Speirs when they reunite suddenly at an Easy Company reunion and have both recently relocated back to the US. Carwood has promised to his mother to finish packing and cleaning the family's boarding house that's about to be put up for sale, and on a whim invites Speirs to help him. He didn't expect him to actually show up.”

and you on my mind by seabright Rated E / Canon Era (Post-War) / 11081 Words / Complete

Summary: “’You say that you don’t want any of Easy to know that you’re in Boston but you give me your address.’  Following a relationship through the end of the war and beyond.”

Of Soldiers and Secrets by nanuk_dain Rated E / Canon Era / 62988 Words / 26 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “A series of moments in the life of the Easy men, from Foy until after the war, focussing on the development of the relationship of Carwood Lipton and Ronald Speirs.”

Erasure by Howling_Harpy Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 15255 Words / Complete

Summary: “Carwood takes time off from work to visit his mother to get away from his lonely life in Boston. Ron is deployed to Korea and has been for a long while, and after spending a year alone and even longer lying to everyone, Carwood is not sure he wants to live like this anymore.”

Fluences by masongirl (Series) Rated T-M / Canon Era / Soulmates AU / 12818 Words (Total) / 5 Works / Complete

Summary: “ Soulmate AU in which soulmates can sense each other's emotions if they are close enough.”

**Mainly Speirton centric. Part 2 is Winnix & Part 3 is Shifty/Tab.

A Thousand Kisses by Arwen88 Rated T / Canon Era / 1993 Words / Complete

Summary: “ A late night in Hardigny brings Carwood to the room where Ron is dealing with paperwork, but even with a comfortable bed, he can’t find his peace. Late night chats have Ron showing a side of himself that Carwood had not expected.”

stop the world by languageofthebirds Rated T / Canon Era / 3001 Words / Complete

Summary: “The way his hair fell in mussed waves over his forehead made Carwood want to reach out and run his fingers through it. He was sin personified, in that moment.”

**Did I throw in a shameless self promo? Sure did.

WEBGOTT (JOSEPH LIEBGOTT/DAVID WEBSTER)

rivers always reach the sea by bitchbutter (Series) Rated E / Canon Era / 40790 Words (Total) / 2 Works / Not Complete / Last Updated March 17, 2021

Part 1 Summary: “Joe breaks things off with Web in Austria. Of course, nothing with them is ever that simple.“

Part 2 Summary: “The end of the war could be the end of a lot of things. If Joe could let it be.“

if i know you at all, i know you’ve gone too far by starblessed Rated T / Canon Era / 2654 Words / Complete

Summary: “How many stars d’you think there are, Web?” Joe asks after a moment.David has no damned clue. “A lot,” he answers confidently. “Millions.”“Millions,” echoes Joe. The glittering stars are reflected in his eyes, like black pits sending each beam of light back outward. It’s almost hypnotizing, the way they flicker. If he stares too long, David knows he will get lost in them...  and that doesn't seem like the worst way to go.”

Teller of Tales; Song of Songs by thedastardly Rated E / Canon Era (Post War) / 8352 Words / Complete

Summary: “He hopes that he dreams about the mountaintop tonight. He isn’t in the mood to dream of the water, the shore, the everything after, again.”

the only noise beating out is ours by lakehymn Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 3470 Words / Complete

Summary: “Over the next couple weeks, Webster realizes that Liebgott has effortlessly invaded every corner of his life. Even on the days when he barely sees Liebgott at all, he can always find comic books or packs of cigarettes lying around somewhere. It’s almost disconcerting how ordinary it’s beginning to feel to stumble upon someone else’s belongings in his own house.”

push and pull by LT_Aldo_Raine

Rated T / Modern AU / 4115 Words / Complete

Summary: ““got hands like an ocean, push you out, pull you back in” And David Webster never could resist the ocean. OR: Webster snorted, a sardonic sound that echoed across the hotel room. “You don’t know the first thing about what I need.””

hang in there, baby by rilla Rated M / Modern AU / 3116 Words / Complete

Summary: “Written for the Kisstober prompt 'upside down Spiderman kisses'. '“I don’t know what I was expecting when I asked you what your top fantasy is,” Web says, “but it wasn’t this."'”

In His Wildest Dreams by Impala_Chick Rated E / Canon Era / Dream Sharing AU / 3891 Words / Complete

Summary: “While David is in the hospital, he starts sharing dreams with Liebgott.“

Black Ink on Some Blue Lines by thelastfig Rated E / Canon Era & Post War / 10185 Words / Complete

Summary: “It’s been sixteen years since the letter was written, but it never found its way to the one it was intended for. The thing about secrets is they eat away at you, not all at once but slowly over the years, and you begin to wonder, to play out the what if scenarios in your mind. Instead, David buried it away and pretended like it never existed. He should have killed it, he thinks to himself, not buried it while it still had breath in its lungs. In which David remembers his evolving relationship with Joe over the course of the war and decides to deliver a letter.”

LUZTOYE (GEORGE LUZ/JOSEPH TOYE)

The best laid plans by masongirl (Series) Rated G-E / Modern AU / 52652 Words (Total) / 15 Parts / Complete

Summary: “Modern AU in which Joe and George find each other as college students and build a life together.“

each and every day (of the year) by bruce_the_shark Rated M / Modern AU / 21630 Words / 2 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “Joe grins, lifts his hand from George’s hip to grip him by the chin, twists his face around to catch his lips in a bruising kiss. George relishes in it, likes how the taste of Joe’s preferred brand of liquor mixes with the taste of his own on his tongue. He grins against Joe’s lips, knows it’s going to be a good year.”

Babysitting and Other Rationales by aces_low Rated T / Modern AU / 3267 Words / Complete

Summary: “George Luz is a god damn saint, or at least some kind of kid whisperer. And Joe's just trying to keep his head on straight.”

who let the dogs in? by starblessed Rated T / Modern AU / 1869 Words / Complete

Summary: ““And he heard me shouting and I guess it inspired him or something, cause he full-on charged at me, Joe, and before I could even slam the door, he was just —“ George cuts off with an incoherent noise, gesturing grandly to their front door. “In! And then he was running, and sniffing everything, and exploring our shit, and he peed —““Not on my damn couch,” Joe growls.“No, on the nice carpet. Marking his territory, y’know? Except it’s our territory, but I guess it’s his now, because he won’t freakin’ leave.”

BABEROE (EDWARD HEFFRON/EUGENE ROE)

Call me sweetheart, please? by mariamegale (Series) Rated G-E / Modern AU / 95865 Words (Total) / 12 Works / Complete

Summary: “A not-relationship in the making.”

**Each part could be read as a standalone I suppose... But it’s so worth it to read the whole series!

between the walls by CountlessStars Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 2275 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Eugene decides to paint his living room. It should be easy, it really should, but it doesn't go as planned (in more ways than one).”

Walking Wounded by papersky_pencilstars Rated G / Canon Era / Magic AU / 3501 Words / Complete

Summary: “Prompt: Canon-era; Either Gene or Babe have magic, or both. Maybe magic is known or maybe they need to hide it.”

JOHNNY MARTIN/BULL RANDLEMAN

they don’t know about the up all nights (they don’t know I’ve waited all my life) by PotofCoffee Rated T / Canon Era / 22010 Words / 3 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “ Johnny and Bull throughout the war, in a slow meandering dance you might just call love.”

All My Love to Give by Muccamukk Rated E / Canon Era / 8852 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Johnny wants to screw around to pass the time. Bull wants to show Johnny how he feels without having to risk saying it”

The Red String by Arwen88 Rated M / Canon Era / Soulmates AU / 1834 Words / Complete

Summary: “He had to wrench his gaze away from the sickening sight, from the machine that was probably moments away from killing his soulmate. He would’ve thrown himself under that tank if that meant saving his lover, but he couldn’t do it. He had to take care of his men, and so he forced himself to stop looking, to order his men to retreat, to see that they did what he was screaming at them.“

Over Where You Began Muccamukk Rated E / Canon Era / 2949 Words / Complete

Summary: “ The way Bull saw it, Johnny was mad at him now, and Bull had no idea what he'd done wrong. Maybe it was better to just let it lie, let Johnny come out of whatever angry mood he was in on his own, instead of kicking an ant's nest.”

Simple as a Glass of Chocolate by ThrillingDetectiveTales Rated E / Canon Era / 2600 Words / Complete

Summary: ““It was supposed to be syrup,” Johnny muttered darkly. “Says right there on the can!”“Reckon it started out that way,” Bull shrugged, biting his lip against a smile when Johnny narrowed a glare over his shoulder.(In which Johnny and Bull try to sweeten up their sex life and it doesn't go exactly as planned.)”

CHUCK GRANT/RONALD SPEIRS

to Babel, in ruins by captainkilly Rated T / Canon Era (Post-War) / 5114 Words / Complete

Summary: “Chuck knows recovery isn't a linear event. Knows there are times when words will leave him and the night will place him back beneath the dirt. Knows there are things he just can't speak about.Captain Speirs hears him anyway.”

pulse by captainkilly Rated T / Canon Era  / 4706 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Ron Speirs knows how to kill. Knows how to hurt, how to twist, how to maim. He doesn't think he's figured out how to love, not really, not where it counts the most, but the touches he reserves for Chuck Grant beg to differ.. “

AUTHORS

there are so many authors on this list that have written tons of amazing works for one or multiple pairings. as much as I would have loved to, I couldn’t rec all of their works... I had a hard enough time keeping it down to 3 or less works from the same author! similar to fics, I’ve only linked authors that I am familiar with/know have written multiple fics, so feel free to send me more people to add to the list :)

churchkey - is a sweetheart. has multiple amazing winnix works. she has recently gotten into super rarepair toye/malarkey. godspeed I’ll see you there when I read those fics.

ThrillingDetectiveTales - writes for multiple pairings. all of their works are fantastic! every time I see their name as the author I go !! and know it’s going to be good.

Howling_Harpy - has written so many fics. many different pairings. lots of speirton. they’ve ripped my heart out and made me cry but then gently kissed my forehead and put my heart back. I think that’s praise of the highest order.

masongirl - another fantastic author who has written so many amazing fics. tons of speirton and other ships too. also has made me cry and then quietly wiped my tears away.

mariamegale - baberoe queen. that’s all I have to say. I was tempted to just rec all her baberoe fics. check them out!

Muccamukk - another multi ship, multi works writer. i had a hard time only choosing a few of their fics to rec. they’ve got so much to offer!

Impala_Chick - writes lots of great webgott and other pairings too!

captainkilly - if i could rec all her fics I would. there’s some rarepair pieces that are fantastic. I didn’t list it here because it’s more of a character centric piece with an OFC and a little bit of ron/chuck dashed in mostly at the end, but read her form & void series. seriously. read it. I have nothing else to say because her work speaks for itself.

Arwen88 - another writer for multiple pairings with multiple works! love to see it. some great rarepair stuff and also fantastic popular pairings.

LT_Aldo_Raine - love their work! they write for multiple pairings.

[unbridgeabledistances]

prompt: domestic gallavich/being intimate in a nonsexualway bc there’s like 3 weeks til the next episode 😐

your wish is my command, anon!<3 i decided to tie this into next ep bc i simply cannot HANDLE mickey’s outfit/big gay metamorphosis & i needed to create the scene that inspired it so i wrote this

a one-shot bridging 11x06 and 11x07 in which ian and mickey talk about “gay friends,” ripped jeans, and do a bit of processing along the way

tw for brief mention of homophobia/abuse (bc terry lol)

--

“How come we don’t have any, like, gay friends?”

Ian looked up from where he was laying on the ground, breathing heavily after a series of push-ups, a nightly routine that he was trying to keep intact even though he and Mickey were practically driving the entire circumference of Chicago every day to make weed deliveries from dawn til dusk, leaving them both exhausted. It had been a week since all the shit with Terry, and a month or so since he and Mickey had started the security gig; while months ago their evenings would be spent sitting side by side on the bed in a brittle silence while Ian read or scratched in his notebook and Mickey played games on his phone blasting at full volume in the pajamas he’d been wearing all day, these days the evenings in their bedroom were softer and warmer— like they were settling into the space together, like they were both on the same team instead of constantly clashing and butting heads while trapped in a too-small space. These days, after having dinner in the clamor of the crowded kitchen, he and Mickey would head upstairs and change out of their uniforms, and Ian would work out while Mickey mostly just lounged on the bed, sometimes making commentary and watching him bob up and down with a pensive smirk or scrolling through his phone.

But tonight, Mickey was quiet— his eyes flickered to the curves and edges of Ian’s torso every now and then as Ian broke a sweat, but otherwise he wasn’t playfully poking and prodding like usual.

Mickey had been a lot quieter in general this week, after all the stuff with Terry— Ian knew seeing the source of all of Mickey’s trauma in a wheelchair immobile from the neck down, the most vulnerable Terry could have been, felt worse than someone repeatedly twisting a knife in Mickey’s abdomen. But beyond the initial shock and the almost-murder and lugging him up the stairs, having Terry in a wheelchair twenty feet away did something deeper to Mickey. This whole situation shifted something solid that had been lodged in the pit of Mickey’s stomach for years— Ian could see it, and he fucking hated it. He hated Mickey’s glassy contemplative eyes as he looked out the car window while they drove to a new dropoff location, lost in his head when he thought Ian wasn’t looking. He hated the tightly wound tension between Mickey’s shoulder blades as he slept, curled into himself and twisted in the comforter, facing away from Ian on the other side of the bed. He hated the tight smiles Mickey gave him as he made some offhand joke about Terry when they could hear him cursing and shrieking through the open front windows, smiles that were trying to prove something outwardly but showed the barbed pain stinging at Mickey’s insides. Ian poured out what he could in soft touches, in skims of fingertips at the breakfast table and in an arm over Mickey’s waist while they slept; but he could only give as much as Mickey would take, and for most of the week Mickey had shut everyone out with iron walls.

Ian couldn’t imagine what was stirring in Mickey’s mind; he’d seen some of Mickey’s trauma firsthand, sure, and some of the stories about Terry came slipping through the cracks when Mickey’s guard was down— mostly on those late nights when they both couldn’t sleep and Mickey whispered into the crook of Ian’s neck as they were curled into each other, cradled in the dark silence of their bedroom. But Ian knew there was deeper shit that he hadn’t heard about, and he could see the constant fear of Mickey’s adolescence hanging heavy around his neck all these years later. But Mickey didn’t need anyone to push his walls down— Ian knew he’d open up when he was ready.

Which is why this random question, the most direct statement Mickey had really made to him all week, caught Ian off guard. He sat up, folding his arms over his legs and staring up at where Mickey was slouching on the bed, propped up by a pillow he’d shoved between his back and the wall. “Gay friends?” he asked, more than a little confused.

Mickey cleared his throat. “Yeah, gay friends, y’know. Like all your youth center queers that came to the wedding or whatever.” He suddenly looked down and picked at a fraying thread on his shirt sleeve, not meeting Ian’s eyes.

Ian raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was random, sure, but Mickey wouldn’t have brought it up if something wasn’t weighing on him, bubbling up after all the events of this week.

“I don’t know— I guess since the pandemic and stuff, I haven’t really kept in touch with Geneva or any of those guys who came to our wedding. We only really talked after I got out of prison because of all the Gay Jesus publicity bullshit, but after you got out I wasn’t really thinking about that as much.”

Mickey blew out a breath, so quietly Ian barely noticed it. Ian stood, wiping his sweaty forehead and plopping down on the bed next to Mickey, folding his legs so their knees were almost touching— but still giving him space, still letting him breathe.

“Why’re you asking?”

“Don’t know, really. Just thinkin’.” Mickey picked at his shirt sleeve again, then flickered his gaze up to meet Ian’s eyes, two clear pools of glassy blue. “Thinkin’ about what life could’ve been like. If I wasn’t scared shitless of who I was for so long.”

Ian felt something twist in his gut, the same queasy pang of pain that always resurfaced whenever he saw Mickey like this, whenever he was reminded of all the unspeakable agony that Terry had put him through.

“It’s fucked up that you didn’t get to be who you were for so long, Mick,” he breathed, knowing that statement didn’t cover the amount of things that were fucked up about this situation.

Mickey ran his teeth over his bottom lip, like he was concentrating. “Yeah.”

Ian let them sit there for a second. It seemed like Mickey wanted to say more, but something in him was frozen solid. After a moment, Ian tried to break the tension.

“Hey, for the record, I’ve had lots of gay friends and you aren’t missing much. There’s lots of PC bullshit that’s important but took me fucking forever to learn— and even then, I never really felt like I totally belonged.” He gently nudged Mickey’s ribcage. “I guess that’s why I forgot about everyone, between work and getting to be with you all the time— I’d rather eat pizza in the mall food court with you than go to some boujee fucking café with the youth center people any day.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upwards slightly. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.” His fingers went slack around the threads on his shirtsleeve he’d been picking at. “You don’t… miss it though? Bein’ around people who’re like us?”

Ian paused for a moment, imagining the youth center crew in the same room as Mickey— it would be fucking comical, like people speaking two different languages, like astronauts trying to communicate with aliens on Mars through gestures and confused looks. But that was just because Mickey didn’t know how to speak that language— he’d been kept shrouded in an abusive household with daily death threats for years, and then stowed away in prison where he didn’t have the chance to go to fucking brunches and clubs and education events like Ian could. Ian got the chance to learn all that shit— it wasn’t Mickey’s fault that he never did, and if it was anyone’s, it was all Terry’s.

Ian’s eyes flickered to Mickey’s face— he looked vulnerable and split open, like he was drifting away in all the possibilities of what could have been. When he answered, Ian spoke softly, carefully.

“I mean… I guess I do. There were nice parts of going out with people, or even those after-parties back when I used to work at the club. There’s something nice about being with your people, where you can make jokes about stuff or talk about deep shit and everyone’s on the same page. It’s hard to find that around here.” Ian tentatively crawled his hand over the blanket, letting it rest on Mickey’s knee. “S’there anything else going on?”

Mickey raised his thumb to his mouth, biting at a hangnail contemplatively. “Dunno, man. Just thinking. How it might be nice, to have friends like us. I used to be scared of hangin’ with other queers, but I think that was just some deep bullshit with Terry.” He looked up to meet Ian’s eyes. “It’d be nice to stop… hating that part of myself, or whatever.”

Ian smiled, reaching to intertwine his fingers with Mickey’s and tracing a pattern with the thumb that was free from their grasp on Mickey’s inner thigh, a soft touch of validation that Ian hoped would soak into Mickey’s skin.

“I think so too.” Ian watched the corner of Mickey’s mouth curve upwards. “I can definitely hit up some of the people I used to hang with, and see if they wanna get coffee or something? With the two of us? Only if you want.”

Mickey nodded— then chuckled a breathy laugh, like he was relieved. “Fuck it. Yeah.”

Ian couldn’t help it; Mickey looked so fucking sweet and so relieved that he had to press a kiss to the top of his head. Mickey squirmed underneath him, bristling like a cat that didn’t want to be pet like he did with most of Ian’s soft touches— but Ian just grinned and doubled down, pressing another slower peck onto Mickey’s temple. Mickey blew out a slow breath.

“Don’t know what I’d fuckin’ wear to a brunch with a bunch of Northside do-gooder gays,” he said after a moment, his voice wavering so slightly that no one except Ian would have noticed.

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, giving Mickey’s hand a quick pulse of a squeeze. “Mickey, are you kidding? Wear whatever the fuck you want. You don’t need to change yourself, that’s kind of the whole point.”

“Yeah. Fuck. Guess it is.” Mickey was quiet for a moment, but still chewing on his bottom lip, like he was building the courage to say something more. Ian could tell— he let the comfortable silence hang between them, knowing that Mickey would break it when he was ready.

“D’you think it’d be stupid if I, like, tried to… jazz up my look a bit?” He darted his eyes nervously to Ian’s face, down to their clasped hands, and then back to the covers again. “Like, uh— I don’t know. Maybe wore some shit that didn’t have holes in it. With patterns, or whatever.”

Ian felt his face split into a grin. Patterns, or whatever— god, he loved his dumbass husband so fucking much. He pressed another kiss to Mickey’s cheek— this time Mickey didn’t flinch away, his only resistance a forced roll of his eyes.

“Mick, I don’t think that’s stupid at all. I think you should dress however makes you feel good.”

“’Kay.” Mickey pursed his lips, like he was still hesitant. Ian rubbed his thumb over the back of Mickey’s hand, their fingers still clasped and hanging limply in Mickey’s lap. The silence was hanging again, and Ian could still feel the tight waves of anxiety bouncing off of Mickey. He took in a breath.

“I could… help you, y’know. If you wanted to dress a certain way. At the very least I could gas you up and tell you how hot you look.” Ian paused, smirking and running his eyes over Mickey’s torso. “But I could also help you pick shit out, or whatever. We could order some stuff online.”

Mickey looked up at him, his eyes oddly relieved and open in a way they hadn’t been in days. “Yeah?”

Ian softly smiled. “Yeah. Only if you want to. You’re you, and you don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I love the way you look— hell, it drives me crazy, Mick. But— if you feel like you aren’t dressing the way that makes you feel the best, or like you’re putting on an act for other people and you don’t want to anymore— then we can figure this out.”

This time it was Mickey that initiated affection, lifting their clasped hands and pressing a quick ghost of a kiss to Ian’s wrist. Ian smiled in acknowledgement, then playfully raised his eyebrows. “You wanna look online now? I’m done working out and more than happy to help you gay up your look.”

Mickey unclasped their hands, playfully shoving Ian squarely in the chest. “Fuck you.” Then, in an uncharacteristic move from the way Mickey had been flinching away from his touches all week, Mickey leaned in closer to Ian’s chest, nestling his back on Ian’s sternum and reaching for his phone that was discarded on the blanket beside him. “Alright, hot stuff. Where’re we fucking shopping?”

Ian grinned and snapped the waistband of Mickey’s sweatpants playfully, shuffling underneath him and getting comfortable.

“’Kay, let me think. I used to order a bunch of shirts and stuff from Primark when I was going out with the youth center people. They have good denim, too.”

Mickey’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth again while he listened. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the phone’s keyboard— then, in an automatic movement, he quickly shoved his phone into Ian’s hand, cheerfully wriggling back into Ian’s chest. Ian smirked and unlocked the phone, happy to take the reins— online shopping for fashion was clearly lightyears out of Mickey’s comfort zone.

Ian navigated over to the Primark homepage, plastered with torsos of toned models wearing striped button ups and ripped jeans. His thumb pressed down onto the “denim” tab, and he started to slowly scroll through the rows of options, holding the phone so Mickey could see.

“I don’t know what you really want, but they’ve got pretty cheap pants and shit that’re good quality…” Ian let his voice trail off, speaking softly to where Mickey was lying on his chest in a voice that he knew was tickling the shell of Mickey’s ear. Mickey almost seemed… nervous, or at the very least paralyzed by the wealth of options. He raised his thumb to his mouth, anxiously biting the hangnail again.

“I guess those ripped ones don’t look too bad.”

Ian clicked on the picture Mickey was referring to. They were black jeans, a dark wash and skinny cut, with patches ripped on both knees. Ian felt something well in his chest, probably an overreaction to a pair of jeans— but these jeans were perfect for Mickey. They weren’t too much, weren’t overly fashionable, but they still felt more clean-cut than the baggy pants Mickey usually threw on. These jeans were badass, and totally aligned with Mickey’s don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, but they were deliberate. Stylish. Like they were saying here the fuck I am.

“Yeah?” Ian knew Mickey could tell he was smiling from his voice.

Mickey smirked, craning his neck and turning to look up at Ian. “Yeah. Think I can pull ‘em off?”

Ian pressed his lips together. “Fuck yeah. You’re gonna look so good.”

Mickey just gave a satisfied smile, and nestled back against Ian’s chest again. “Let’s get ‘em, then.”

[qwanderer]

What makes a Loki a Loki?

Loki is called upon to be a lot of different people. He’s been raised on Asgard, and that’s formed some of the more basic aspects of his personality and values, but at the same time he has attributes that have been consistently discouraged and pushed down by that culture, and we can see them step forward as he moves into situations where they are encouraged.

Throughout the canons, there are a lot of Lokis. Siege Loki, Lady Loki, Kid Loki and his murderer, Ikol, King Loki, and the God/Goddess of Stories. The earlier aspects I know only by secondhand information, but I’m very familiar with Loki from Young Avengers and Agent of Asgard, some of my favorite comics of all time. But I know some basic facts - the way the earliest Loki was a quintessential comic book villain full of pure simple theatrical mischief and ridiculous schemes, the fact that Lady Loki was a somewhat more sinister appropriator of bodies for her own use.

In my view, MCU!Loki has, at the very least, the same capacity to shift personalities depending on the circumstances, and I haven’t yet seen anything in the Loki show that’s thrown my suspension of disbelief with regards to his characterization.

I’ve seen some people rebel at the idea of Loki gleeful over the destruction of Pompeii and the causing of chaos it allowed, but it reminds me of some meta I wrote very early on in my years of meta-writing in the MCU. The values Loki was raised with, Asgardian values, sometimes treat death very lightly, especially death in battle, especially human or otherwise non-Aesir death. In the Aesir context, at least to a certain extent and certainly in terms of what we’ve seen Odin teach his sons onscreen, violence is honorable, fighting is an adventure, lives are cheap and Valhalla is the ultimate goal.

I think a lot of the central conflict of Loki’s character is that he follows some of these principles to their logical conclusions in situations that Aesir values never meant them to cover. If life is unimportant, then it won’t be so bad if I tell Thor that Odin is dead. If the throne of Asgard has dominion over all the Nine Realms, then why shouldn’t I rule Midgard?

But he also shifts the way he acts to suit the situation. He is a shifter, it’s what he does. On Asgard, he is expected to be a warrior, a dignified prince, a companion and support for his brother. The values are bravery and dignity, and so a lot of what he projects there is bravado and elegance, which are close enough for him to get by.

When he is taken by Thanos, the only things Thanos wants and values are power and death. So Loki becomes an avatar of power and death. He carries that with him to Earth, because he is still very much under the jurisdiction of Thanos. But he very quickly learns how to use and manipulate Earth values, like wit and pathos. They seem to fit him better than the others, and he carries them through the other movies and the different frameworks he finds himself in.

He also tends to carry Asgard with him, the knowledge that he’s a prince, destined to be a king, that he needs to carry himself a certain way, with that elegance, dignity and bravado.

When I see Loki in the first episode of the show, I recognize him as some of the deepest, most quintessential parts of Loki that have only been allowed to peek out on occasion before. And that is due to manipulation on Mobius’s part - Mobius makes it very clear what he expects of Loki. To get down to the very basic levels of him and find out his motivations, what makes him fundamentally himself - “What makes Loki tick?” There’s a quiet void there, and the only thing that’s being asked of Loki, for once, is that he sit down and fill that void with words - the truest and most sincere words possible.

There’s a clear and interesting divide between that phase for Loki, and the phase we see in episode two - Mobius has stopped providing that space, and in the interim, he’s made it very clear what he expects Loki to be like, what mold he’d prefer the trickster to fit into.

The hard-working, lovable scamp.

Loki is hiding his deepest self again, which we all do most of the time. Loki can’t feel that deeply and express that freely all the time. Because of the environment he’s in - which may not be any more or less free than any of the other environments he’s experienced - he expresses himself in a particular way. He is the hard-working, mischievous scamp Mobius has been pushing him to be.

I don’t think he’s any more or less himself than he’s ever been - he’s simply responding to different pressures. And the pressures of this episode press him very hard into the Neal Caffrey mold. Which is an interesting mold in itself - when I was writing White Collar fic, I made a point to distinguish who Neal was when he was with Peter and who he was under different circumstances - prison, witness protection, with Mozzie, with Kate. (I wrote an autistic Kate, and had him most freely himself when he was with her.)

Like Neal Caffrey, the Episode 2 Loki is treading a line between behaviors that will get him things because he’s useful and compliant, behaviors that will demonstrate that he’s into minor trickery for fun now and might not be getting up to anything bigger, and those bigger tricks that are definitely still running in the background. It’s the obvious balance for a trickster on a leash with an indulgent bureaucrat.

You can see that it’s a facade in the way that he is near tears when he sees the Ragnarok paperwork, but when he brings it to Mobius’s attention and Mobius expresses his sympathies, Loki says “Yes, very sad,” and then dismisses it in favor of moving on to his mischievous enthusiasm over the resulting theory he’s had.

Like all good lies, it’s built out of truth, so when I see this Loki, I see pieces of the Loki I know, just put together a little differently, which is how Loki seems to do it.

Although he’s not free as he might hope to be, and in fact threading a narrow path between a very constricting set of pressures, I do still think he’s enjoying the dropped expectations of dignity and elegance. I think he’s enjoying being in a culture that encourages him to be a geek. To go on about the things he’s passionate about and his areas of expertise. And I think that’s a lot of what unsettles people about this Loki, because that elegance and dignity have carried everywhere else with him. And I’m not going to argue that the TVA are doing anything nice for him - quite the contrary - but I still do enjoy seeing him able to be the geek he’s always had the inclination to be, in the right circumstances.

It makes me wonder, a little, how much his mother is on his mind right now, after the first episode, because if I had a guess, the last time he’s felt free to be this enthusiastic and expressive about his interests is in magic lessons with her as a child.

So. The other variant.

We know from the Lady Loki comics arc that Loki can possess other people’s bodies over the long term, and we know from kid!Loki and his murderer interacting in YA that the original occupant of a body can sometimes hang around and talk back, if only as a figment of his imagination. We know from most incarnations that Loki can go to a lot of dark places if the circumstances push him to it.

As I’ve said before, I’m intrigued by the question the difference between the two variants poses - how much different can two Lokis be before they are no longer meaningfully the same person?

We’ve got clues on both sides, of course - our scamp on a leash saying “I wouldn’t do this to myself” on the side of them being not the same person, and the vengeful goddess he’s chasing saying “I was afraid they’d found a better version of me” on the side of them being the same person.

The more I think about it, the more I’m willing to predict that this vengeful goddess is, in some way, an incarnation of Loki. But (be warned, I’m going to reference Stephenie Meyer now) it could be in as small a way as something out of The Host - a stolen body’s original personality fighting dirty against the invading spirit.

If this is something based on the character of Sylvie from the comics, it could still be anything from a person - human or Asgardian - chosen and manipulated by Loki to do his bidding, to a full-on possession, or even a body constructed for a specific purpose but developing its own personality traits.

We know this variant is a body hopper, and Mobius’s briefing mentioned that it’s an inherent ability of most Lokis to shapeshift, so there are a lot of potential explanations for this unfamiliar shape.

But the differences between the variants could also stem mostly from different experiences.

The only thing I’m at all sure of is that this variant has also been tortured by Thanos. It’s possible that she branched earlier - that the wild desperation of having freshly escaped Thanos translated into being dragged into the TVA like a cornered wildcat, on the raggedy edge and desperate enough to go all-out to get out of the collar while still in the custody of the minute men. Then, as she became familiar with the TVA in concept and execution, developed opinions and built a personality around taking them down, taking them apart the way she wished she could do to Thanos, the way Thanos did to her.

But she could also have branched later - after the destruction of Asgard, or when Thanos appeared on the refugee ship. After the worst has happened to her people. With some preexisting notion that time could have gone differently, that some things that had happened should not be allowed to happen.

I have a weak spot for interactions between incarnations of Loki in the comics, so I am incredibly eager to see the MCU’s take on this.

[missorgana]

call me what you want

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: marvel cinematic universe

rating: general

word count: 2741

warning: alcohol, swearing

summary: Bucky thinks he quite likes Sam calling him nicknames, but he likes his smile more. (more tfatws canon compliant fluff.. just because!)

(look at me, once again ignoring exams to write stupid fluff instead. anyways! don’t have much to say but hope u enjoy!! <333 missing them already)

read on ao3

Bucky doesn’t realise just how long he’s been looking at Sam until the man glances over and calls him Buck.

When he thinks about it, his eyes never leave him. Not after those staring contests of theirs, which he’ll admit to himself and no one else that he’s the most responsible for. Not when Sam turns his back to him, focus returning to the mission and Joaquín and Redwing.

He’d roll his eyes at the nickname, but that would mean looking away from Sam, and losing eye contact with Sam.

“Don’t call me that,” he says instead, hopefully conveying his disagreement with a tight-lipped look. He considers smiling. Seems inappropriate.

The other man does smile, “Why not? It’s what Steve called you.”

Sam’s smile looks right. Feels right. Bucky’s had people smile at him before, sure, plenty, but it hasn’t ever felt exactly like this. He’s not sure what it means, though, so he pushes it the furthest way back into his consciousness.

“He knew me longer,” Bucky explains, pretending like it matters, “And Steve had a plan.”

The shorter man seems like he’s holding in a laugh, a smug one. That suggests he knows the obvious lie when he hears it. 

Bucky can see the gap between his teeth.

If he turns his own lips into a smile when Sam turns away again, the man currently preparing to jump out the chute doesn’t need to know. If he spots it and gives him a funny look, he doesn’t need to know the reason behind the smile. Bucky knows.

*

Because Sam’s always calling him a  cyborg, Bucky fumbles for some sort of retaliation. His name’s too short to make fun of, he contemplates. Damn him.

“I can see the gears turning,” the shorter man laughs, hard and out of breath. Bucky still can’t stop looking at him, for some reason. He bends over a bit when he laughs, picking up a faster pace than himself. Bucky makes sure to catch up.

His comeback ends up being, “Sure you can, birdman.”

He can tell the other man feigns offence, raised brows and nose scrunching at the edges. Sam smiles so easily. Bucky wonders what that’s like.

“Oh, I see how it is,” the man next to him speaks up, eyes dancing easily over the open, practically deserted field they’re surrounded by. There’s a car buzzing faintly a fair amount of miles away, Sam wouldn’t notice but he does, super soldier senses and all, “For the record, that movie’s not too bad.”

Bucky kicks a rock and some dirt to the side. The rock’s weird looking, all sharp edges, almost like spikes. Yet it’s so small. He decides to look at Sam instead, “What movie?”

A honk lets them know they’re not alone. He thinks this might be what disappointment feels like, because the other man stops himself after “I-” and shakes his head instead, causing Bucky’s brows to furrow and right hand to twitch and something sinking inside his stomach, “Nevermind.”

He has to remember to google that later.

*

Bucky doesn’t really care that Karli told Sam to come alone, because Sam also knows that he’ll be coming with him, no matter the protest.

He’s got a hunch Sam also knows that he was lying, again, reattaching his vibranium arm and gaining the senses back and pretending not to be all that shocked.

“You okay?” the man asks and he answers, “I’m fine.”

Of course. It’s fine. Kind of annoying, how Sam looks at him with a worried glance, trying to hide it but failing miserably. Bucky doesn’t look away when their eyes meet. The shorter man blinks, slowly, like a question.

And he always gestures for Sam to go first.

So he does, too, on the Wilsons’ boat, when he’s tightened near every damn screw and lifted every imaginable thing like it’s nothing, and yet the other man still refuses to ask for help. He accepts it when Bucky decides to put a cool hand on his hip, though.

Sam stills. He himself doesn’t move till the man in front of him does. Seconds seem like years.

“Alright, show-off, don’t overwork yourself,” he tells Bucky, laughing without much of the familiar smugness. The dimples in his cheeks are deeper now, wide eyes. Bucky expects Sam to be looking at his left arm, but his gaze is resting somewhere under his chin. His throat, above his chest.

He thinks he’s getting the hang of this nickname thing, “Sure thing, Sammy.”

And the other man throws a towel at him in response. “Sammy? What are you, five?”

Sam’s sweatshirt has a small hole in it. Near his hip, a tiny thread poking out. The fabric slides up when he raises his arm, revealing a sliver of his stomach. He imagines his skin to be soft, like his arm. It seems the man notices his fixated stare on the spot, looking for whatever the subject of his attention, wiping his forehead in the hem.

Bucky shrugs, “Give or take a hundred years.”

He understands why Sam’s chuckle doesn’t reach his brown eyes at that. What he doesn’t understand is his pupils, significantly dilated. Stupid serum advancement, stupid awareness.

A spot of sunlight touches the other man’s face, and he squints, covering himself with a hand, moving out of Bucky’s sight.

This is how he realises he’s still holding a grip on the now tightened pipe, harder than he thought. He’ll make sure to fix the bending he caused before Sam notices.

*

Sam is a good dancer. Not that Bucky’s an expert on it or anything, far from it, but he’s not tripping over his own feet or cursing or slinging his sister around like a ragdoll.

His nephews are jumping around them, too, a couple of their neighbours in a slow dance, another reaching out and offering Bucky a beer, which he accepts. The serum doesn’t allow him to be affected much, unless he deliberately seeks being unsensibly drunk, but he likes the bitter taste, regardless.

Sarah straightens her brother’s arm and rolls her eyes in the direction of himself.

Sam turns his head about a millisecond later, winking before spinning her around. It’s smooth as hell, despite not breaking eye contact with Bucky. 

"Come on, Buckaroo!" the shorter man raises his voice, nickname just plain awful, "Get up here."

Bucky decides to shake his head as a reply, he's always preferred observing, really. Besides, he thinks he might be too quick on his feet. Too spinny, urging to not stand still.

Sam doesn't drag him up. He didn't expect him to, but it still surprised him, for some reason. The shorter man looks severely gentle with his hands on the small of Sarah's back, not surprising.

He gets a shake of the man's head and a shimmy of his shoulders. "Man, you're no fun."

Bucky huffs, “Whatever you say, darling.” Sam blinks in disbelief at the name. Sarah snaps him out to carry on with the dance. He likes having the man’s attention, he thinks.

He considers hiding his smile behind the rim of the glass. But really, there’s no need to, and he doesn’t feel like it.

The other man always grins as opposed to simply smiling. It grows just an inch when he notices Bucky smiling back, and there’s these tiny, sensitive hairs standing up on the back of his neck, he feels it immediately. Blood rushing to his face. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

Just about every window in their house is open, his t-shirt sticks ever so slightly to his lower back with sweat, and a moth is fluttering around the lamp in the corner. It’s comical, tiny wings and body staying so close to that light, not really doing anything.

Eventually it’ll die, he guesses. Well, it has to, of course. But when the living room thins out and the light dies and everything turns quiet, it’ll simply wander around, lost, until that warm glow returns.

That stupid bug bathes in the light like it’s the only thing in life that matters. Bucky feels a sudden urge to look at Sam again, and the other man isn’t looking at him anymore, but it doesn't matter, his presence is enough.

Actually, he thinks he might fear looking away from Sam. Scared he’ll miss something, anything. A look or a smile or a joke or a movement. Some warmth radiating off of him, because the man has so much that he doesn’t even mind giving away a little to his surroundings. 

Bucky’s quite like the moth, in that sense.

*

Now, Bucky didn’t plan on kissing Sam today.

He’d been planning on it, or he wanted to  ask , but most times it was like the certain moment faded too quickly and he felt guilty for not doing anything about it.

When he woke up to AJ and Cass playing with the shield and the man cooking breakfast in a tank top, Bucky wondered if he should do it, then. It felt weird to try with both his nephews and sister in the kitchen though. He also sort of wished he had gone for it on the lower deck of the boat. Maybe Sam would think it was inappropriate when they were working.

When they circulated around each other the last few days, training, talking, Bucky gaining a deeper understanding for the other man and finding a way to convey an apology that sounds  right, it feels like they’re more of a team.

Connected. Stronger, maybe. Sam doesn’t need his super soldier strength at all, though, but it being wanted anyway, that makes him want to smile more. As much as the shorter man, maybe, if he’s capable.

Bucky decides the next time, the next moment, it’ll come, like all the other moments he’s been discovering and making him sort of breathless. In a good way.

“Thanks for the help,” Sam tells him, instead of a goodbye, “It meant a lot.”

Usually, these sentimental moments they keep having will be ended by the other man lightening the mood, so to speak. Not breaking it, just making it airy and familiar. His stupid jokes that aren’t even stupid, or annoying, anymore, they just remind Bucky of something like safety. He hasn’t asked, and Sam hasn’t said, but he feels like he’ll be there if he falls down. He’d do the same for him.

The man doesn’t joke around, now, despite himself attempting to muster the same smugness, “Of course.” He feels like it sounds more sarcastic than he intended. 

He quite likes that boat. Likes the people on it more. One particular person.

Bucky really thinks that’s the end of their conversation, their own way of saying  see you around  , but instead a voice catches him when he turns around, “I’m just telling the truth, baby.”

Naturally, he turns back, but now Sam’s got his back turned.

Funny, how they keep going back and forth like that. Watching, even when the other isn’t looking. He knows he’s been doing that a lot, there’s no denying it.

A feeling in his hand, the way it twitches, makes Bucky feel like this might be a new moment.

“Wilson!”

He doesn’t really wait for a reaction before following. Like the moth. Meant to follow. When Sam stops, he stops. Then, reaches over the shield in the man’s grasp and lets his fingers touch the nape of Sam’s neck.

Bucky half-expects him to push him away, but the shorter man kisses him back immediately, and  that makes him want to smile. So he does.

It’s short, close-mouthed, the softest experience he’s ever had. Soft lips, stubble meeting, even if the shield pokes his stomach, doesn’t matter.

When Bucky draws back, Sam’s grinning like an idiot.

He also lifts an expectant eyebrow, like he’s waiting for him to explain himself. Maybe say some romantic bullshit, but he’s scared the words will fail him. Too focused on the other man’s Adam's apple when he swallows, too busy counting his eyelashes, so he doesn’t forget.

Bucky doesn’t want to forget anything about Sam, ever, for the life of him.

He adjusts the bag on his shoulder, before giving the man one last smile. Sam looks weirdly proud of him. “It’s for luck.”

*

Bucky guesses a kiss is the sort of thing you talk about, but the mission at hand doesn’t allow much talking. He manages to hear Sam’s speech, grab every word and hide it within him and completely pretend he didn’t. The other man knows his bullshitting, again.

“Great job, Cap,” he tries to smile, showing his teeth, like Sam. The man next to him eyes him curiously, for the first time since Bucky met him, looking endearingly shy.

He still laughs, sounding almost like a song Bucky’s trying to remember, “It’s Cap now?”

“Obviously.”

And given Sharon’s wound, he can’t stick around, but the text he receives about a  party  at the Wilsons, a cookout, that doesn’t surprise him, actually. Doesn’t surprise him that he’d go to Louisiana in a heartbeat and pick up the cake Sarah asked for, even if it slides around in the carseat and doesn’t look all that appetizing when he arrives.

The Wilson siblings roll their eyes at him. They both smile. Sam looks like the sun.

Bucky’s so busy being overrun with kids staring at his left arm that he doesn’t notice Sam slipping out of the group. If it makes him panic just a little not knowing where he was, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

The shorter man hasn’t gone far though. He’s looking out at the water, the sunset.

It’s pretty. Looks prettier when Sam stands there.

He knows, he  knows he’s not damn good with communication. The other man told him so himself. But he can’t stop trying, even if it feels like he’ll swallow his tongue.

Sam doesn’t acknowledge him when he comes up behind him, not at first, but Bucky thinks about his easy smile and red shirt and the lines in his palm and the ghost of his lips on his when he says the first feeling that comes to mind.

“I hate everyone else in the world, but you.”

It makes the other man chuckle and turn his face towards him. When he smiles hard, really, really hard, his warm eyes crinkle at the corners.

There’s a small birthmark on Sam’s throat, he notices. And one on his earlobe.

“Really?” he asks, as if it’s up for discussion.

“Yeah.”

Then that smugness returns like a charm with the comment, “So you like me more than Steve?”

And he would be annoyed, but his own smile is kind of preventing that feeling to surface. “I hate Steve,” he answers, with a certainty that surprises them both. Sam’s tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Then, “You liked Natasha, though,” and Bucky wants to roll his eyes so goddamn badly, which is clearly what the other man was looking for. He thinks he finds him adorable. The pink hue of the sky touches his being so perfectly. Hazy eyes, teeth nearly gleaming in the light.

“No, I mean what I said,” and Bucky knows what’s coming, of course he does, “But you can’t not like Rhodey, I mean...”

Sam is so fucking ridiculous. He doesn’t ever want him to stop making him smile like this.

“Sam, please, I’m trying to-” but Bucky doesn’t quite get to finish that sentence. Not because the other man interrupts him, at least not with his lips, which he wouldn’t complain about, or his words, but because both of Sam’s hands come up to cradle his face in the most tender fashion. He thinks he might be going crazy.

So he just looks at the man for a minute. Contemplating how loud his beauty is, how much love is in his eyes and how it’s somehow directed at himself. It feels overwhelmingly peaceful.

And Bucky feels Sam’s breath on his cheeks before they connect their lips again. Long overdue. His tongue tastes like coffee and butterscotch.

When they pull apart, the shorter man bumps their noses together. Bucky quite gladly could stay like this forever.

Then Sam asks, an unspoken conclusion, but voices the question regardless, because, well. He’s pretty sure they both need it, “You plan on sticking around?”

This smiling thing is kind of straining Bucky’s jaw. He’ll get used to it.

“Don’t even need to ask, sweetheart.”

[cosplayinamerica]

Cosplay Repair by Rocket Props

My name is Jacob LaRocca.  I am an electro-mechanical engineer, who has always been a scifi, fantasy, video game, and comic nerd.  I played with legos and k'nex my whole life, and that translated into a bit of a niche medium in middle school -- Duct Tape.  I'm not talking about duct tape wallets, or things like that.  I'm talking about prop swords, axes, weapons, and larger models.  It only grew from there. 

All through college, I found myself commissioned to make props and models, mostly swords and hand prop replicas from movies and video games.  I attended my first New York Comicon in 2012, and IMMEDIATELY was hooked.  I attended a number of conventions, and started to interview prop and costume YouTubers for a podcast at the time.

This is really where my passion started to grow.  I found some people in my area who also loved cosplay, and we started hanging out and making together.

My first Dragon Con was where the itch to repair costumes hit me.   I was still only starting to develop my own skills in cosplay, and had only brought one costume.   After wearing the costume for a few days (and through the parade)  there were a number of reasons why I  didn't want to keep wearing it. 

I realized that I had brought nearly ALL of my supplies with me as I hadn't finished it before I arrived, so I went to the pharmacy, bought a huge piece of cardboard, some markers, and a few things I didn't have with me and started repairing costumes.  I've attached a picture of the sign. 

The response was overwhelmingly positive, and I got to meet SO many incredible people and cosplayers, as that year, the con didn't have a booth for repairs.  I absolutely loved getting to see people's costumes up close, and as a cosplayer myself, It made me so happy to be able to help people fix the unexpected problems they weren't prepared to, and let them show off all the hard work and passion they put in! 

I think the most fun part so far, is trying to figure out how to fix things with whatever is on hand.  Its a fun and interesting problem, and rather than carrying EVERYTHING possible, I've narrowed down my tool set to basically be able to fix 95% of the problems I encounter.  

This Zoidberg Jesus by @KevinClose is still one of my FAVORITE stories to tell.  I fixed a few of the parts of his costume over the course of this Dragoncon because I vividly remember fixing his claw, and hearing this very Zoidberg-like noise as he slurped the built up condensation out of the glove that had been spirit gummed to his face.  It was so gross and hilarious, I could barely fix his claw. Cosplay has brought so much to my life.  I am a people person, and always have been, so the aspect of community is a huge part of it.  I love seeing people passionate about something, and I love helping them express that passion.  I currently teach classes in foam fabrication, and am constantly 3D printing something for the myself of someone else.  

For the most part, the cosplay community is incredibly welcoming to any and all.  I think the biggest thing cosplay has brought to my life is a little bit of focus on where to spend my boundless creative energy that a day job doesn't necessarily let me use.  

Cosplay can literally involve any amount of fabrication techniques, power tools, hand tools, and more.  It has given me the excuse to expand my toolset and knowledge to use every single tool in the 40k square foot makerspace I am a member of.  

Mostly, I feed of others' passion, so when someone is passionate about cosplay or character, or a character in a movie has clearly been designed with passion and skill, I immediately feed off that passion and can create something myself using that energy.   Eventually, I hope to turn Rocket Props into a full time job, educating, creating, and making things that inspire people.

I am open for commissions, both for 3D modeling and fabrication.

Find out more http://www.rocket-props.com/

Total Repairs since 2015 Cosplay Repairs: 2500 + Record in One Convention: 372 over 4 Days (SDCC 2017) Bottles of SuperGlue Used : 21 Bottles of Accelerant Used : 3 Sticks of Hot Glue Used : 100+ Bobby  Pins: 300+ Safety Pins: 2000+ Shoes Repaired : 30+ Sewing Repairs : 500+ Duct Tape Rolls Used: 10+ Gaff Tape Rolls Used: 10+ Zip Ties Used : 500+

You can see the full list of tools I carry on my website, but I would say you can fix the majority of problems with the following.

Medium Viscosity Superglue Superglue Accelerant Hot Glue Gun (Batter Powered or Lighter) Black Gaff Tape Heavy Duty Duct Tape Bobby Pins Safety Pins Wig Tape (Useful for all SORTS of things) Sewing Kit with Straight and Curved Needles Leather Awl with Waxed Nylon Thread

BONUS: Bamboo Skewers

[nomazee]

Komorebi (4)

komorebi, p.4

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. 

But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six (final)

(THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT IM SO SORRY and this is definitely shorter than the other chapters (which were already short to begin with) but i hope you guys dont mind that!! that was kind of my intention with this series (i think i’ve mentioned it before,,,?) but this took so long to get out in the first place that i feel like it’s a little underwhelming to have a chapter this short 💀💀 but anyways i hope you like it!!! 

pspspspsps check out this post & help me pick what to do for my 200 special pspspspsps)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Tsukishima thinks that the repetition of his surname ringing in his ears is making him go crazy. Well, crazy is the wrong term. He hasn’t lost his senses yet—he thinks that despite being faced with the daunting wall that is attraction, he’s faring rather well in his day-to-day life. 

You, however, don’t seem to be doing well.

If he’d voiced his concerns to anyone else, he would’ve gotten looks that really solidify the whole “crazy” narrative. You’re perfectly fine on the surface. You’re laughing, giving away more friendship bracelets that line the wrists of his teammates in a steady row and dropping off big white pastry boxes full of cookies and danishes. (“Homemade puff pastry!” He remembers you calling out proudly. “Took me a while to get the hang of it but I don’t think I did too bad!”)

But Tsukishima Kei knows what facades look like. He knows what it’s like to cover up countless feelings and thoughts and words with a blank face and a sarcastic tone. He imagines that using the opposite tactic (one of bright smiles and airy laughs) is somewhat similar. 

He hates to think that he’s the cause of the lack of a crinkle in the corners of your eyes and the scratchy, aching noise of your cello-string-laugh. 

But Tsukishima just does not often know what to say. How to say it. How to categorize the things he feels and send them into funnels where the right words slip out the other end. 

He thinks he’s gotten the first step down pat—he knows he’s attracted to you— (that word is terrible. He pauses and rethinks the terms he can use.) He knows he’s fond of you. Very fond, actually. It’s great that there’s a word for this in his head now. The big issue here, though, is that one word out of five-hundred-thousand is not going to help him figure out how to talk to you. 

So Tsukishima Kei bites. Not like a dog, but like a mosquito. Dogs really only bite when they’re provoked. In truth, he hasn’t been provoked by you—not at all. It’s like he only exists to bite people with no reason and with nothing to provide to society, only leaving pesky, itchy bumps on people’s skin that linger for an annoying amount of time.

The thought is sad. But he thinks it’s accurate. 

He starts off small, like dipping his toes into the water of despondency. His sarcastic remarks sound to start less like sarcasm and more like disdain. It graduates slowly into small insults, ones that sort of slip under the guise of his personality, but he knows that you don’t take it that way. He knows by the way your responses turn into tight-lipped smiles and silent nods. He knows by the way you shift your gaze and furrow your eyebrows and chew the inside of your cheek.

He hates that he knows. He wants to forget about your habits and your voice and your smile and the orchestra of your laughter. The point of this is to forget, he thinks to himself, so why is he still clouded with the faint images of you skipping your feet against the concrete with Shouyo and focusing on the threads between your fingers during lunch as you weave yet another friendship bracelet. 

He watches you do the latter, chopsticks tapping absentmindedly into the content of his bento as he watches you intently. You’re tying off the ends, cutting a shorter thread to make a sliding knot closure. 

The infatuated part of him wonders if you’ll stand up from your table, walk over to his, and hand it to him, slip it around his wrist with glimmering eyes and raised eyebrows and a soft smile. But he’s hoping too much, he realizes as you hand it to Shouyo with a laugh. 

Yamaguchi takes a seat next to the blonde. Tsukishima is aware of his presence but doesn't make a move to glance at him. Yamaguchi sighs. He knows what this is about, and he could say a lot of things to Tsukishima, but thinks his words would be redundant and a simple repetition of Tsukishima’s inner monologue. 

(Tsukishima can handle this, he thinks. It’ll take some time, but he’ll get it eventually.)

You’re reciprocating the distance, the blonde thinks. You’re finally taking his cold remarks personally and pushing yourself away. Tsukishima knows that’s what he intended but the tightening of his lungs and the way his fingers tap rapidly against his desk makes his subconscious reconsider what he’s doing. 

Yamaguchi sighs again. He can’t help it—he thinks the dazed look on his friend’s face is so comically out of character, and he pushes aside his momentary pity to let out a quiet chuckle.

“She’s not just your friend.” He tells Tsukishima. There’s silence at the table for a moment. Tsukishima’s mind whites out for a minute as he tries to understand what Yamaguchi is telling him. 

He hums in response, acting despondent and oblivious. The twitch of his eyebrow gives him away, though. He knows what to do and how to do it, finally—he knows that if he takes enough time to think about it he can finally find the right words to tell you. It’s not the ideal situation to do so, but he guesses he’ll take the chance. 

(He’s strong in his regard until he shows up to school the next day, where a bottle of cold tea and a homemade pastry sits on top of his desk. It’s undeniably you. He feels his eyes start stinging.)

[thewolfisawake]

Aspis

Send me the name of one of my Muses you want to learn more about, and I’ll ramble about them.

My boy! (something goes wrong) My boy! (Father help--)

Now that that's out the way. Aspis has held the place for like...my favorite to torment for years. Like even Samir and Artemis are way less time than I've ruminated on all the ways that it could go wrong for this boy. There's stuff I haven't even written on the blog or chats because it's just my special brand of fucked up and/or extreme self-indulgence. And I apologize in advance because this probably the most rambling and least cohesive of the ones I have written.

The fact there are so many bad ends I've concocted just tells me Aspis is hanging onto his sanity by a thread. One that is frayed and staying with hopes and prayers. He is also one of the biggest proof that bonds are the way to go if someone for some reason wants to save my muse. Like he is the biggest derailment of his original plot. Like to the point, I'm almost going to toss the original plot. And this is not a complaint! I'm genuinely intrigued as to how one can, essentially, have their fate changed.

That being said, I have given enough ambiguous plot points to have any number of weird things go on for him. Namely his strong spiritual power, being from a supposedly long dead family line, and his sketchy adolescence. Like it sounds like a lot of things but the point for me is to give possibilities, not all of them would ever be pursued but it gives the opportunity.

Like with the spiritual power, there's so many things. From seeing some interesting things while a lot of the world will not notice. As well as stuff like possession, probably a good sacrifice to some gateway to hell (thanks for that F.atal F.rame), and of course interactions with the dead. All are things that could be fun to explore and because Aspis is inexperienced with this power, just...room for either funnies or really sad things because he doesn't know a better way.

His family line has had all sorts of things associated with them but because of their nature, it's not clear what's true and what's legend. And as it's pretty much also lost itself, Aspis doesn't know what they are either. The funniest thought I had about it was if there was some long lived being that was like ‘hey, your family said they’d do x or I have a score to settle from y years ago.’ Cliché but I do love those ones. 

There’s also the idea that his family were ‘beloved’ for some reason. I have thought about if this ‘affection’ is...not quite good. The most specific was like some angelic-like being that wanted a songbird...because their musical talent is the only thing that I can admit is canon amongst them (there are several muses from the same bloodline as Aspis but they’re separated by like...centuries). There has also been the consideration that someone in his family had ended up being ‘blessed’ by the god of destruction, currently going by Noctis, which showing up now for Aspis turns into more of curse. And considering he’s already cursed, really blows.

His dubious adolescence is probably the most recent development but one I’m rather fond of because it gives opportunity to meet other muses of dubious background. And it could be friendship, could be mentorship, could be ‘oh god, I stole from them. Fu--’ anything goes. And it just ends up being almost comical because his friends think he’s just sweet and good and how ever could he end up with anything seedy? Aspis is just a nice contradiction like that. And this was between his training to become a hunter so there is the question of how he had time...and really it just goes with his surprisingly self-destructive being. 

I’m not sure if it was ever made known to others but Aspis had an insane workaholic-like time frame for years between his cadet years and becoming good friends with his coworkers in the European branch of the Bastion. Like since he was unsupervised anyway, he spent that time basically getting money to get him a better start for his hunter career equipment wise and training himself...unconventionally in the process. And when he did get licensed, he spent so much time making up for failed assignments with others so that he didn’t fall behind. Think like...black company sort of overtime, that’s what Aspis was up to.

Okay I gotta stop somewhere or I’ll spend all night on like....all the terrible stuff that is up with this boy. I know certain people will be like ‘let him rest’ and I am like ‘tell him that!’ 

[twinklysmiles]

Not a Word of This to Anyone! (Or: A Ticklish Spa Day)   Part 1: Pedicure

A Star Trek Tickle Fic

Fandom: Star Trek TOS / AOS Characters: Leonard Bones McCoy, James T. Kirk (McKirk at a stretch), Nyota Uhura, Christine Chapel  Warnings: Tickling  Word Count: 2,488

Summary: Kirk and McCoy get roped into joining Chapel and Uhura on a spa day, which turns out to be a rather ticklish experience. They seriously regret their decision as they helplessly suffer through a pedicure and a full body massage.

Inspired by this gif:  (although I can actually picture AOS Kirk and McCoy even better in this one)

“So, what are you up to today, girls?” Kirk asked Uhura and Chapel over breakfast in the luxurious hotel most of his crew had booked into for shore leave on this amazing recreation planet’s gorgeous “Earth Island”, a resort specifically designed to cater to human tastes and needs. They had certainly earned some real R&R after what they’d been through recently.

“Oh, we’re treating ourselves to a long overdue spa day, aren’t we?” Uhura beamed, glancing at Chapel and sighing contentedly. “Want to join us?”

“Where’s Spock?” McCoy cut in quickly, hoping to distract Kirk before he started to seriously consider Uhura’s suggestion. “Is he skipping breakfast today? I haven’t seen him yet.”

Knowing Jim, the doctor was afraid that the captain might actually take Uhura up on her offer, and he really didn’t want to have a spa day. The thought of having his body touched and prodded for a whole day made him uneasy. He was … sensitive.

“Spock, Scotty and Pavel already left for a conference on warp engineering or whatever,” Uhura replied, rolling her eyes at the idea of wasting precious shore leave time on something like that.

To McCoy’s regret, however, Chapel took up the spa day subject again.

“So, what’s your answer, Captain? Doctor? Are you coming with us? Treat yourselves to some pampering, too?”

“I don’t think that’s for us,” McCoy muttered, casting Kirk a glance that clearly said, ‘Don’t even think about it!’ Which, of course, only served to pique the captain’s interest even more.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Bones!” he exclaimed, giving McCoy his broadest grin. “I think that’s a splendid idea! We should definitely try it!”

“Oh, come on, Doctor,” Chapel chimed in. “You, of all people, seriously need to relax!”

“And I will,” McCoy insisted, “just not at a spa!”

“You’re not turning into a macho man, are you, Leonard?” Uhura teased, and the doctor knew that she had him. He just couldn't let her get away with an accusation like this.

“All right,” he grudgingly agreed, “maybe for a couple of hours. What are you starting with?”

“A pedicure,” Chapel smiled. “They’re so relaxing!”

“A pedicure?” McCoy gulped, sounding almost as horror-stricken as he felt. “How on earth can that be relaxing? I couldn't handle a pedicure, I’m far too…”

He broke off midsentence, catching himself just in time before giving away too much.

‘Ticklish!’ Chapel thought gleefully, silently completing the sentence.

That was why she’d suggested the pedicure in the first place. As a nurse, she knew a lot of intimate details about the crew members of the Enterprise, like people’s various tickle spots, for example, most of which were inevitably brought to light during physical exams. If a crew member was ticklish, Chapel probably knew it. And where, too. And she absolutely loved to exploit that knowledge a little, although no one would suspect.

McCoy, for example, was more than a little ticklish on the soles of his feet, as she’d found out when he’d sprained his ankle a while ago. Especially on his heels and the balls of his feet, which practically screamed for a little pedicure fun.

Chapel also knew that Kirk was seriously ticklish. He was incredibly sensitive on his belly. To the extent that she had to pin him down, his fingers desperately digging into her arms, whenever Dr. McCoy had to check his abdomen. She had no idea about the sensitivity of his feet, though. But she’d certainly like to find out.

“Well, let’s go!” Kirk threw his napkin on the table and got up. “Time’s a wastin’! There’s only so much shore leave left!”

McCoy shook his head at his friend’s enthusiasm, debating whether it was still possible for him to chicken out. But when he looked at the women’s challenging faces, he knew there was no way they’d ever let him live it down if he did. How he was supposed to live through a pedicure, however, he wasn’t so sure, either.

‘Dammit, I’ll somehow survive it,’ he thought, trying to convince himself.  After all, a lot of people got pedicures, and a lot of people were ticklish. Especially on their feet. Although maybe not as acutely as he was. He suppressed a shudder.

Besides, just like physicians, pedicurists were bound to be trained in how not to tickle, weren’t they? As a doctor, and being excruciatingly ticklish himself, he was always careful to make his touch as little ticklish as possible, always very attentive to any tell-tale reactions, and trying not to tickle his patients more than necessary.

‘Not so, Christine’, he thought wryly. Over the years, working with her, he’d almost got the impression that she actually enjoyed tickling patients, and rather liked to exploit tickle spots when she found them. He’d even wanted to talk to her about it several times, but found the issue too embarrassing. Too close to home. So, he’d contented himself with trying to keep her away from the more ticklish patients, at least the ones he knew of. Like Jim or Chekov.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Uhura and Chapel enjoyed themselves immensely, watching their friends having their pedicures. Like a lot of men, Jim and Leonard were clearly not used to having their feet touched, both of them quite obviously finding the procedure terribly ticklish, although dealing with it very differently.

While Kirk was just giggling away unashamedly, enjoying a good laugh and warning his pedicurist that he couldn't be held responsible for his reflexes and possible resulting injuries, if it tickled too much, as well as telling her that he didn’t think he could last all the way to the end, McCoy desperately tried to hide his growing distress, clearly deeply embarrassed about his ticklishness.

But Chapel guessed that his feet were way more ticklish than Kirk’s, and was pretty sure that he’d soon lose the fight. His lips pressed tightly together, his expression almost comically rigid, tears starting to spill from his eyes, he was a picture of ticklish agony.

No matter how hard he tried, the doctor couldn't hide what a harrowing ordeal this was for him. His spasming body treacherously betraying how the pedicurist’s ticklish touches were killing him. And she hadn’t even started on the serious scraping and scratching part, or used her super-weapon, the rotating pumice stone, yet.

Gripping the armrests of his chair so hard, his knuckles went completely white, McCoy did his best to keep a straight face and not show how unbearably it tickled. But the pedicurist, of course, immediately noticed his predicament and, exchanging a mischievous glance with her colleague working on Kirk’s feet, made her touches extra ticklish until the doctor finally burst out laughing and just couldn't stop again.

By the time the two pedicurists were done with their respective ‘victims’ first foot, the two Starfleet officers were a ticklish mess. Even Kirk’s laughter seemed forced now, and poor McCoy had nearly fallen off his chair several times, what with all his writhing and bucking.

And while the captain had issued a continuous, if incoherent stream of half-hearted pleas for mercy, which he’d seemed to get more serious about when his pedicurist had started to work his soles over with her spinning pumice stone, the doctor had been helpless to get a single word out from the moment he’d first erupted with laughter.

McCoy had been bouncing up and down in his seat like mad, shaking his head from side to side, holding on to the armrests for dear life, and visibly just hanging on by a thread, trying to somehow get through this excruciatingly ticklish ordeal.

Chapel couldn't tear her eyes away, mesmerised by how incredibly ticklish the doctor’s feet really were, and even Uhura was clearly enjoying the show.

Kirk regained his breath shortly after his pedicurist had finished his first foot, but it took McCoy almost a minute to calm down and stop giggling.

oOoOoOoOoOo

“Enough,” the doctor finally gasped, “one foot is enough for life.”

“Oh, don’t be an infant!” Chapel and Uhura said almost at the same time, then looked at each other and burst out laughing while McCoy gave them his best scowl.

“I’ve had more ticklish patients, believe me,” his pedicurist said, grinning widely, and McCoy blushed furiously, hating to have his embarrassing ticklishness so bluntly addressed. Then she cheekily added, “At least I didn’t have to strap you down!”, the mere idea almost giving the doctor a heart attack. “But usually,” she continued with a reassuring smile that could or could not have been sincere, “once you’ve made it through your first foot, the second one isn’t so bad anymore. Your feet just need some time to get used to the sensation.”

McCoy was just about to politely decline, much rather enduring Uhura’s and Chapel’s eternal teasing than going through such atrocious tickling again, when Kirk challenged him, “Come on, Bones, you’re tougher than that! If I can take it, so can you. Besides, we haven’t laughed nearly enough lately. And you always say “laughter is the best medicine”, don’t you?”

“I never say that,” the doctor grumbled, but when he saw three pairs of eyes wickedly smirking at him, he put his second foot back up on the footrest with a sigh. So, his friends had discovered his greatest, most shameful weakness. He’d show them that he could take this like a man.

Only he couldn't. Not even for a second. He regretted his foolish decision the moment the pedicurist put her first tickle tool to use on his sensitive sole, causing him to instantly double over and dissolve into uncontrollable laughter once more.

The sensation was so unbearably ticklish, he couldn't even beg her to stop again, the air being forced out of his lungs as he helplessly fell into silent laughter. It most certainly didn’t tickle any less than it had on the other foot. In fact, it seemed to tickle even worse. Pure, unadulterated tickle hell.

Just the pedicurist’s grip on his toes, as she trimmed and filed his nails, was insanely ticklish, but the torture multiplied, when she started scraping his calloused heels, and again, when she set to work on the horrendously sensitive balls of his feet. He wriggled around in his chair, covering his face with his hands and laughing harder than he could ever remember.

McCoy vaguely noticed Kirk howling with laughter next to him, too, but his considerations whether or not Jim’s other foot also seemed to be more ticklish, were cruelly cut short when his pedicurist turned on this diabolical pumice device, clearly invented by the devil himself with the sole purpose to tickle him to death.

Suffering through the longest, and certainly most humiliating minutes of his life, he didn’t even care what a ridiculous and sorry sight he must be anymore. All he cared about was for this horrendously ticklish nightmare to finally be over.

One might almost think the pedicurist was prolonging his ordeal on purpose, but then again, she might just be doing her job, without any intention to torture him. After all, his feet had always been unspeakably ticklish. Definitely his second most ticklish spot.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Watching the men writhe and wriggle, doubled up with laughter over a simple pedicure, was greatly entertaining for Uhura and Chapel. And when Uhura asked her friend in a whisper, “Do you think they’re tickling them deliberately?” the nurse just nodded with a huge grin on her face.

They certainly were. Not only were they still going strong, while the women’s feet were long finished, but even though Chapel knew that McCoy’s feet were horribly ticklish, and had anticipated the spinning pumice stones to seriously torment him, this was way more intense than your average pedicure.

She almost pitied Kirk and the doctor. Almost. It was just too much fun to see the strong and proud men being tickled out of their minds. For a tickle fiend like Chapel, this was almost too good to be true. But Uhura didn’t seem to mind too much, either, Christine thought wryly. But then, of course, it was “only tickling”, right?

When the men’s ordeal was finally over, and they slowly recovered, wiping the tears off their faces, McCoy taking considerably longer to regain his breath and his composure than Kirk, Chapel couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that the fun was over again already. Therefore, the pedicurists’ unexpected next words totally made her day.

“You poor guys!” McCoy’s pedicurist sweetly smiled at both men, the sympathy on her face appearing almost genuine. “You really have it bad, don’t you? To make up for all the suffering you’ve just gone through, we’d like to offer you a full body massage at half-price, if you’re interested.”

Kirk and McCoy immediately declined, clearly just wanting to get the hell out of this torture chamber, hopping off their chairs as soon as their tormentors released their feet, and hastily putting on their socks and shoes. But when one of the pedicurists grinned and gave Chapel and Uhura a mischievous wink, the two women instantly got the message and started talking their friends into accepting the offer.

“This is one of the most famous spas in the whole galaxy!” Uhura gushed. “You’re so lucky!”

“She’s right, Doctor! Captain?” Chapel agreed. “They’re always fully booked. People pay good money to even get a spot, and you’re being offered one right away. And at a 50% discount, too! You’d be crazy not to take it!”

oOoOoOoOoOo

“Thanks, but no, thanks,” McCoy croaked, his voice still hoarse from shrieking with laughter, a panicked look creeping onto his face, as he recognised all the signs of Kirk actually contemplating the offer.

“Well, I could certainly use a good, relaxing massage now,” the captain smiled at his pretty pedicurist. “Come on, Bones! You’ve been pretty tense, too, lately!”

Of course, Jim would fall for a lovely face and a suggestive smile, the doctor thought angrily. And maybe he should. Just because McCoy was too damn ticklish, why shouldn’t his friend enjoy a good massage?

“I’ll pass,” he said, trying to sound amiably despite his feet still tingling and twitching irritatingly. “You just go ahead, and I’ll find something else to do today.”

“Oh, come on, Bones, give it a chance!” the captain all but whined, “Just one little massage, and then we’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

McCoy heaved a sigh. Who could resist Jim’s puppy dog eyes? And when Chapel smirked at him and suggested, “You could always ask for your feet to be excluded!” it became a matter of pride. This was ridiculous. Surely, he could get a massage without being tickled half to death!

And practically already feeling the soothing effects of strong hands kneading the muscles in his tight neck and back, he grudgingly nodded and followed Kirk and the two pedicurists across the beautifully kept lawn of the resort to the massage parlour.

Part 2: Full Body Massage

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing of Star Trek

[lvllns]

pain is a well-intentioned weatherman

pairing: adam x f!detective (callahan esposito) rating: g, little angsty though words: ~1.9k notes: i have....never written adam before and i think it shows but whatever. this is finished and i’ll take it because i haven’t been able to finish anything in months yikes. ao3 link

—

She gives up trying to sleep after three hours of staring at the wall, eyes blank and thumb methodically rubbing over the scar on her wrist. The bounty is hanging over her head and it’s all too much. Pressure beats down on her shoulders and there is only so far she can bend before breaking.

Callahan crawls out of bed. Throws on whatever clothes her fingers find in the dark and slips from her room at the warehouse. She blinks as her eyes adjust to the lack of light in the hallway, fingers trailing along the wall as she makes for the kitchen. It’s two in the morning, late or early for her, not so much for the pack of vampires she shares her life with now. Light seeps under the doors of a few rooms as she passes. She hopes desperately that the kitchen will be empty when she reaches it.

No such luck, as the light bleeds out into the hallway when she steps through the door. Adam looks up from where he’s leaning against the counter, a mug of something cradled gently between his hands. She can’t quite make out the smell of it over whatever body wash he’s used, the peppermint sting of it overwhelming the space. He’s clearly been training and cleaned up.

“Detective?” He asks, eyebrows knitting together. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a sharp pinch of disappointment when he doesn’t say her name. She bats it away and shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep,” she murmurs.

Stepping further into the room, she grabs her own mug and starts fiddling with the coffee machine.

Adam snorts. She looks over her shoulder to find him watching her, one brow quirked and a small half-smile not quite concealed behind his cup.

“What?”

“Coffee is hardly going to help you get any sleep.” There’s a thread of something in his voice. Cal thinks it might be concern.

The machine clicks on with a soft whir and she hops up on the counter to wait. “I’m not going to get back to sleep so I may as well start my day now.”

“That’s…” Adam trails off. A crease forms right over his nose as he frowns. Callahan places her hands in her lap, tangling her fingers together and squeezing until her knuckles bleed white. “Unwise.”

“It is what it is,” she says, eyes darting from his pinched-up face to the floor. “Nightmares and anxiety don’t exactly make for a relaxing time.” He jerks his head up to look at her, eyes narrowing. She ignores him. Plucks at a thread on the shirt she’s wearing and ah, it’s an old one of Tina’s she never gave back. “Why are you awake?” Adam stares at her. She sighs. “Aside from the obvious not needing much sleep.”

“I...I was training,” he says hesitantly, words escaping from his mouth as though he wishes he could bury them back down.

There’s a loud beep as the coffee finishes and Callahan reaches for the pot, almost missing the wave of relief that washes over Adam. She lifts her mug to her face. Takes a deep breath and knocks back a few mouthfuls before slipping from the counter to rummage through the fridge.

“Did you not just burn your mouth?”

She twists around to look at him and he looks horrified. Eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. A snort leaves her before she can stop it. With a shake of her head, she says, “Nothing I can’t handle.” Just to prove a point, she takes another large drink. Adam blinks. Mumbles something under his breath in French and drops it. With a triumphant sound, she holds up a container of blackberries and grins. “I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Cal—Detective, you do not need to leave.” The words rush from him. A dam bursting, water running and flooding the plains beneath. “I’m almost done, I should—”

Callahan bumps the door shut with her hip. “We can both share the kitchen Adam,” she says, cautious and delicate.

“I do not wish to overstep.”

“You could never.”

And, okay, maybe that’s a little more honest than she should be considering whatever they are to each other. He winces, physically winces, shoulders jerking and fingers tightening around his mug. She hops back up on the counter, space between them. Enough, she hopes, for him to not feel cornered and run.

Silence settles then and it’s...pleasant. Not comfortable, not entirely with the weird undercurrent of tension that seems to trail the both of them like a shadow wherever they go.

She drinks her coffee.

He sips his tea.

Neither of them speak until:

“How have you been fairing?” Adam’s top lip catches on the rim of his mug for a moment before he pulls back. Swipes his thumb across his mouth. Callahan forces herself not to follow the movement by staring down at her coffee. “With the kidnapping and the bounty...it cannot be easy.”

She laughs, mirthless and exhausted. “It’s...it’s a lot honestly.” Callahan sets her cup down and presses her palms to her eyes. “I’m still trying to process Murphy, you know?” A shake of her head. Hands falling to her lap once more as her thumb brushes over the scar on her wrist. Adam’s eyes drop to the movement, following the line of her arm back up to her face. “The bounty, fuck, I try not to think about it.”

“Do...do you wish to talk about what happened with Murphy?”

Bless his heart, he’s trying, she thinks. He’s settled against the counter, fingers running around the rim of his empty cup. Their friendship will always be more important to her than anything else but sometimes she wishes...and she wants in a way that threatens to consume them both in a blaze. And she can’t lie, it stings when he drapes his arm on the bench behind her only to turn around and put so much distance between the two of them that she hardly sees him for days on end except for team meetings.

“There really isn’t much to talk about,” she says. Callahan shakes her head and sighs. She fiddles with the container of blackberries for a moment before mumbling, “You were there after all.”

A full-body flinch and it would be comical, watching this tank of a man attempt to fold in on himself, except he clearly blames himself for whatever catastrophic part he believes he played in her maiming.

The container rocks on the counter as she blinks. “Shit, I didn’t mean to—”

He lifts a hand to stop her. “No, I...I was there, you are right.” He exhales through his nose. “I should have been quicker.”

“Adam don’t—”

“Cal,” he whispers, eyes lifting from his hands to her face. He is pleading with her and she is weak to him. “I should have protected you better.” Adam scoffs and he sounds so much like Mason, she has to blink a few times to make sure Adam is still the one beside her. “It will not happen again.” He looks straight ahead at the empty doorway. “I will not let you go so easily in the future.”

Her head is spinning. Fingers trembling where they’re now tangled together. His voice is barely a whisper in the dark but the conviction…

She shivers. Twists her head to look at him and there’s a bright burst of anger beneath her ribs. It flares, burning wild, and engulfs her lungs. “What are you doing?” The words rasp over her tongue, sharper than intended and he snaps his gaze to her. “Adam, what...I…” Frustration drips from her fingertips only to be replaced by exhaustion. “I can’t keep doing this.” She laughs. Tips her head back until it hits the cabinet with a dull thump.

“Can’t keep doing what?” He’s gone tense, shoulders tight beneath the shirt he’s wearing.

Callahan levels him with a blank stare. “Adam.” He says nothing. She groans. “I value our friendship above everything else, but I...sometimes I think…” Well, there’s nothing for it, is there? She focuses her attention back on the blackberries and says, “I care about you, Adam, a whole fucking lot, and sometimes I think you care about me too but then you go and make yourself so scarce we don’t see each other for days at a time.”

Adam swallows hard. “What would you have of me?”

“Your honesty.”

He scrubs his hands over his face. Brushes them over his hair and clasps them on the back of his neck. “It is late and—”

“Right.”

“Callahan.” She pauses at the use of her name, searching his face for...for something. What, she doesn’t know, but something, anything would be a start. “This is...a conversation better had when we are both well-rested.” The way he speaks, low and calming, his usual clipped accent softening, it soothes her nerves and she feels tension melt from her shoulders.

“You’re right,” she whispers, eyes darting back to the berries sitting on the counter. “I just...you know I’m not asking for you to, like, I don’t know, do something outrageous, right?”

“Calla—”

“I just want you to be honest, Adam.” Callahan lifts her gaze and meets his stare head-on. His knuckles are white where they curl around his mug and she can see the start of a hairline fracture in the ceramic. “With me, but with yourself most of all.” One fluid motion has her off the counter, blackberries in-hand, and she moves to set them back in the fridge, her appetite gone now. “Just...be honest.”

“That is easier said than done,” Adam rasps out. She watches the crack in the mug grow. “There...are things you do not know or understand…”

Arms crossed over her chest, she leans against the refrigerator. “And I’m willing to wait, Adam.” He flinches for the third time tonight, shoulders curling forward. She smothers the urge to reach out, to comfort him. Piles dirt on the fire and lets it flicker out. “I just...I can’t handle the way you run from me. Work out whatever you need to, but please don’t hide from me.” Callahan wipes at her face. “I like your company, Adam.”

He closes his eyes, head bowing. Lines travel up toward the rim of his mug, racing toward the top. “I apologize,” he says, voice low. “I...I will try.”

The mug cracks with an audible snap. Adam jerks, hands catching sharp pieces of ceramic between his palms. Callahan jumps, eyes going wide. She moves closer, hand outstretched, but he waves dismissively.

“Careless,” he says with a shake of his head. She’s not entirely sure he’s talking about the mug. Shards clink together in his palms, the gentle sound filling the otherwise silent space.

“Did you cut yourself?”

“Mhm.” Adam shifts all the pieces into one hand. Raises the other so she can see the cut across his fingers. “It will heal shortly.”

She blinks. “Ah. Right. Forgot.” He quirks a brow, and she watches him push down the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips. “I’ll just get out of your hair and let you clean this up.”

He laughs, soft and quiet. “At least it was empty.”

“It’s the little things,” she says with a lopsided smile.

Adam looks up at her. Grins, wide enough to reveal his dimples before he turns to set the broken pieces in the sink. It’s so easy to slip away from the tension. To fall back into the easy camaraderie they have together. Callahan lets it happen. Doesn’t fight it, doesn’t try to press for more. He’s right anyway, this is better talked about when she’s actually had some sleep.

She sighs and leaves the kitchen, lifting her hand in goodbye when he notices her retreating and turns around.

Whatever they have, it’s enough for now.

[aawesomepenguin]

RATING EVERY SONIC FROM THE SONIC MULTIVERSE

How much of a good boy they are? All of this in this thread.

Disclaimer: Of course, this is my opinion. You might feel different. You’re welcome to disagree!

(MAIN UNIVERSE - Universe 1991)

The Sonic from the games, a true good boy. He does things on his way, his own way, he aims to do what he believes is right, hates injustice. He cherishes his freedom above everything.

He loves to explore the world, always running around. Doesn’t have a house.

Doesn’t like to see tears. He also likes to crack some jokes to have fun with his friends. Is a hedgehog of action, usually doesn’t think twice before taking action.

Also has not shown much interest in doing romance.

10/10, this is my favorite Sonic

(UNIVERSE 1991A - 1991 Promotional Manga)

This Sonic is the vocalist of his world’s most famous band, and also has cool sharp fangs. A lot of human girls have a crush on him.There are certain rumors circulating around that he might be dating a human girl named Madonna... could it be true?

He is also a good boy, takes action when he sees others in danger, and is also determined to fight against injustice.

9/10

(UNIVERSE 1991B - American Sonic)

Originally brown, Sonic was a great friend of Dr. Ovi Kintobor, a good human scientist. Kintobor studied the Chaos Emeralds with the intention to get Mobius rid of all evil.

Kintobor gives Sonic cool new red sneakers as a gift, and after getting involved in an accident on one of Doctor’s inventions, Sonic turns blue. Eventually Sonic and Kintobor become enemies after the Doctor trips and breaks the machine that stored the Chaos Emeralds, becoming Robotnik.

A good boy, a dude with atitude, also way past cool, and full of 90s charm.

9/10

(UNIVERSE 1992 - Sonic the Hedgehog Manga)

Nicky is a shy boy, he has a younger sister, his father is a pilot, and his mom is a housewife. Nicky is a nerd dedicated to math and all kind of things related to it. He’s very coward and shy, and has a huge crush on Amy Rose.

But, when there’s danger on the horizon, Nicky’s second personality shows up! It’s Sonic, a way more brave dude, and with no reason to be shy! Sonic always fights against the tirany of the evil Dr. Eggman! After his duty of saving people is done, he turns back into Nicky.

Nicky does not have memories of what he did as Sonic, but Sonic retains the memories of what he does as Nicky. Nicky is a VERY good boy, a nerd, awkward and shy, I love him a lot 10/10

(UNIVERSE 1993 - ARCHIE’S SONIC/PRE-SGW) This Sonic is also a good boy. But, differently from the Sonic from the 1991 Universe, this Sonic is more “domestic”.

He has a place where he lives regularly, being it New Mobotropolis. He also has a father, mother, uncle and even a pet dog. This Sonic also does have some interest in dating/romance, having relationships with some girls in the past. But his main love is Sally, someone who he knows since he was a child. Currently dating Sally Acorn. But even with all of those differences, he still has a big sense of justice, always fighting agains Dr. Robotnik’s tirany and also Dr. Eggman’s. Just like some other Sonics, he sometimes allows his emotions to take over, which sometimes makes him do some unfortunate choices, but he eventually sees how he messed up and tries to do his best to fix things. This Sonic also has a certain ego, but he grows and learns as a person more and more as time passes. 9/10, a good boy

(UNIVERSE 1993B - SONIC THE COMIC)

This Sonic at first can see to be a little hard to approach. He has an even bigger ego than the other Sonics, and can say some things that can hurt his friend’s feelings.

But inside he is extremly unsure about himself, and tries to play “tough” in front of others to hide it. He also has shown some difficulty in reading other people’s emotions, which has put him in some complicated situations in the past.

He’s been trying to improve and be more friendly and approachable with others after being yelled at by Tails and Amy.

He has the same origins as American Sonic, being born brown and a friend of Kintobor. This Sonic was wrongly acused of crimes through an out of context video that was shown for all of Mobius to see. He’s been trying to regain people’s trust and show how much he has improved since.

His Super Sonic is an evil entity that has intentions of hurting all of those that Sonic cares about.

He is trying his best, 8/10

(UNIVERSE 1993C - AOSTH)

This Sonic is also a good boy. He’s an excelent older brother for Tails, that in this universe is only 4 and a half years old. Sonic always tries to be an exemplary figure for Tails.

He has atitude, likes to play and mess around, and lives running around Mobius. Just like Main Sonic, he also doesn’t have a house. He lives fighting all injustice wherever he goes through.

But, he can be a little bit of a womanizer, always getting himself a little carried away with the girls he crosses path with in his adventures. A cool dude, 9/10

(UNIVERSE 1993D - Sonic SatAM)

Blue streak. Speeds by, Sonic the Hedgehog. 

He’s a cool dude to talk and hang out with, he’s very chill. He can be a little bit of an airhead and is not very bright-- but in compensation he has a heart of gold, caring a lot about his friends and family. 

He also fights to have his Uncle Chuck back. Just like Archie Sonic, he also has a home. In this case being Knothole. But, now with Robotnik defeated, it’s maybe time to bring Mobotropolis back to its’ glory days.

He also has a big ego, and can be a little bit full of himself. But Sally keeps this side of him in check.

He dates Sally, that acts as Sonic’s conscience a lot of times.

A good boy, look out, when he storms through. He’s the fastest thing alive. 9/10.

(UNIVERSE 1994 - SONIC ADVENTURES)

This Sonic, just like Game Sonic, is full of attitude, brave, and fights against all kinds of evil he finds in his way.

He also becomes friend with an Echidna Lady. He has a thing going on with Amy Rose. He also has a cool mohawk.

8/10

(UNIVERSE 1996 - SONIC THE HEDGEHOG: THE MOVIE OVA)

This Sonic at first can seem a little bit arrogant, but inside he hides a huge heart full of compassion. He lives on a plane that crashed on South Island a long time ago, possibly the coolest house any Sonic has ever had.

Tails is his best friend, and lives together with him. Both usually either relax on the beach or go on adventures to fight against Dr. Eggman.

A very carefree Sonic, that takes action, and very rebellious.

10/10, an absolute good boy

(UNIVERSE 1997 - SONIC: MAN OF THE YEAR)

A Sonic that clearly fights against Eggman’s evil schemes for a long time. Was chosen as the Man of the year, even though he’s clearly a hedgehog.

Eggman ruins his image when disguises as him. I hope he got it back together, since we never got a continuation to this.

Just looking at him, you can tell he’s full of charm and has that Animaniacs flair in his animation, just from this alone I give him a 9/10

(UNIVERSE 1996B - SONIC THE HEDGEHOG: WONDERS OF THE WORLD)

This Sonic, unlike others, is a fictional character even in his own universe. He ends up going to the real world through an invention done by Josh’s dad. Josh is a real world kid that becomes Sonic’s friend.

This Sonic is a good boy, he believes that the powers of the Chaos Emeralds shouldn’t be used so carelessy, and helps Josh fights against his insecurities, while at the same time he saves his world from the evil Dr. Robotnik, that also ran away from the videogame world.

7/10

(UNIVERSE 1999 - SONIC UNDERGROUND)

He swore his mother will be found. He was raised by Uncle Chuck. He also wants to save Mobotropolis. He’s also a prince, being the son of Mobotropolis’ original Queen, Aleena.

He has two siblings, Manic and Sonia, and while they ocasionally fight between themselves, they care a lot about each other.

He also plays musical instruments, he can invoke a guitar through his necklace. Playing music somehow solves his problems.

7.5/10, a good boy

(UNIVERSE 2003 - SONIC X)

One of my favorite Sonics. This Sonic is more calm and reserved. Loves to take naps. He is usually more reserved about his emotions, and hates to show emotional weaknesses in front of others.

He likes to read, hates injustice, and likes to pass most of his time alone. But he is shown sometimes to have a romantic interest in Amy Rose.

Extremely helpful, always tries to do his best to make his friends happy. Ditches a meeting with the president to make his friend happy.

An EXTREMELY good boy, 10/10 for him 

(UNIVERSE 2003B - SONIC: DASH & SPIN)

This Sonic is probably one of the zaniest Sonics there is, he’s pretty up there with AoStH Sonic. He fights against Eggman’s evil plots, that in this universe can go from stealing a bank to using Sonic’s flu to cover the world with his snot (I’m serious).

He also can count with his friends for help, is full of attitude, nothing will stop him. He likes snowboarding.

7/10. 

(UNIVERSE 2013 - ARCHIE SONIC POST-SGW)

This Sonic resembles Game Sonic in a lot of ways, but he is also part of the Freedom Fighters. But he also likes to have his own adventures across his world.

This Sonic, diferent from his other Archie version, isn’t much interested in dating.

He cares a lot about his friends, but he don’t want them to worry a lot about him, usually hiding any signs of weakness.

In general, a good boy, and an excelent friend you can trust.

10/10

(UNIVERSE 2014 - SONIC BOOM)

This Sonic, like Archie’s Pre-SGW Sonic, is also very domestic. He has a house, lives in a calm island, and just likes to have fun with his friends, specially Knuckles and Tails.

He has a huge crush on Amy Rose, and there are a lot of signs pointing that they are boyfriend and girlfriend.

He likes to constantly foil Eggman’s schemes, saving the Bygone Island a LOT of times.

He can lose his patience sometimes due to dumb stuff said or done by his friends or townsfolk; or also with the surreal situations he gets involved.

9/10

(UNIVERSE 2011 - CLASSIC SONIC’S DIMENSION)

After the events of Sonic Generations, the timeline has split in two, thanks to alterations done to the past. Because of this, we’re having brand new adventures with Classic Sonic.

He’s also a good boy, fights against all kind of evil he faces against, and cares a lot about his friends. Doesn’t talk much, prefering to keep quiet during most of his adventures. 10/10, a cute mute wholesome boy

(UNIVERSE 2018 - IDW'S SONIC THE HEDGEHOG)

Passing in an universe after the events of Sonic Forces, IDW’s Sonic is, in a lot of ways, the Sonic from the games.

He has no fixed place to live in, always running around, making this his own way. Is constantly fighting against Dr. Eggman.

He usually believes that everyone can get redeemed or improve. This sometimes can come back to bite him in the ass, though.

A good boy, 9/10. Give him some rest, let him sleep

(UNIVERSE 2020 - THE SONIC MOVIE)

This Sonic found himself on Earth after running away from his home planet. He becomes best friends with the Sheriff of the city of Green Hills. He ends up being adopted by him. Tom is now his dad.

He is super hyperactive, full of energy and can get easily distracted. He is a Sonic that doesn’t have much of a notion on how big the world can be. Some times can feel very lonely. Unlike some other Sonics, he seeks affection and interaction with others, doesn’t like being alone.

An absolute good boy, I LOVE HIM A LOT, 10/10

(UNIVERSE ZERO - ZONIC THE ZONE COP)

Zonic is responsible for patroling the Sonic Multiverse, checking if everything is in order. He takes his profession very seriously.

Works for Zobotnik, as much as he believes that Zobotnik shouldn’t be the one protecting the Multiverse prison.

This Sonic is a lot more serious and mature than the others, but he has shown to have a sense of humor to the Sonic from the 1993 Universe.

8/10. This Sonic isn’t a good boy though, he is a good man.

(ALTERNATE 1993 UNIVERSE - SCOURGE THE HEDGEHOG)

Coming from a mirror dimension from the 1993 Universe, Scourge was born in an extremly peaceful Moebius. His father was a politician loved by all. Scourge felt neglected by him, deciding to become a rebellious punk to tease and provoke his father.

He forms the Supression Squad with Anti-Sally,  Anti-Tails, Anti-Rotor and Anti-Antoine. They decide to commit acts of vandalism and robbery all across Moebius.

Scourge also antagonizes Dr. Kintobor, a benevolent scientist that tries to bring the best for the Planet’s citizens.

Eventually he becomes the King of Moebius, but Sonic managed do defeat him. He plans to have his revenge on Sonic. This one is a bad boy, he’s an asshole Sonic. I kinda like him. 8/10.

(UNIVERSE 1993E - CYBORG SONIC)

In this universe, Robotnik manages to capture the Freedom Fighters, but something goes awry during the roboticization process, and as a result, Sonic and the others ended up as cyborgs.

A lot more stronger than they originally were, the Freedom Fighters decide to end with Robotnik once for all. But, Robotnik roboticizes himself as a last ditch resort, becoming the mighty Robo-Robotnik.

6.5/10, he mostly exists to make The Terminator References

(UNIVERSE 1993F - SONIC BATMAN)

He is the night. He is also the speed. 

8/10.

(UNIVERSE 616 - SONIC WOLVERINE)

An angry Canadian Sonic with claws.

8/10.

(UNIVERSE 697 - FREEDOM FIGHTERS OF THE GALAXY) This Sonic spent a while in space after some circunstances. Thanks to Einsten’s Law of Relativity, when he returns to Mobius, 2000 years have gone by. This Sonic allies himself with the descendants of the Freedom Dighters, and tries to stop Silver Snively and Robotniklactus’ evil schemes.

He’s kinda lame. A 5/10.

(UNIVERSE 1993FT - Light Mobius)

This Sonic accomplished defeating Robotnik, and with Mobius finally in peace, he married Princess Sally. He grew up, became an adult and had kids.

But he didn’t count with the fact that Robotnik had a Plan B-- the scientist sent his inteligence to a space ship, and from space he sent nukes to Mobius-- killing this version of Sonic in the process. This Robotnik would eventually go to universe 1993 and adopt the name of Eggman.

F to pay respects for this Sonic. F/10.

(UNIVERSE 1993FT2 - MOBIUS X YEARS LATER)

This Sonic went through a lot. After having to rewrite his own timeline to save the universe, he had to win back his friends’ friendship and the love of his life, Sally.He eventually marries Sally, has two kids, and lives happily. Can you believe this Sonic is almost 50 years old? He’s 47 years old!8/10, a good dad

[cindersandroses]

Digital Get Down, Chapter 4

AUTHORS: cindersandroses ( losille2000 and cinderella1181)

CHAPTERS: 4/?

PAIRING: Actor!Henry Cavill/ Plus-Size OFC

GENRE: Romance/Fluff/HUMOR

FIC SUMMARY: When SuperHank met OrcPrincessPeach on the World of Warcraft message boards, it was love at first raid. Now, almost a year later, they’re ready to take the next step and meet in person. Half a world away from each other, both decide to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon, since she was already going to be there for her work as a game designer at Blizzard… never mind that she is a devout nerd. They both have to face the fact that reality is very different from a digital world.

RATING: Mature

AUTHORS NOTES: Thank you all! We meant this romp to be short, but as we get into it, it seems to be growing. We hope you are all enjoying it!

Also on AO3!

Chapter 4

Henry sat on the bed, happily watching Opal as she meticulously pulled out garment after garment and hung them up in the closet. She hummed softly as she worked, every so often stopping to squint at the yards of fabric on this skirt or that, pulling at loose threads and muttering something about needing to steam press one of them. There was something so domestic about this, even though they were in a hotel room in an unfamiliar place and still--despite getting to know each other online—trying to figure each other out.

It amazed him how much being in person changed everything; the reality had settled in that they may have talked a lot about anything and everything, but that was far different than being in person and having the physical connection with someone. They both still had a lot to learn about each other and he planned on spending every possible minute with her doing just that. There was no doubt in his mind that this was right; the feeling of peace as he watched her move around the room was like nothing he’d ever experienced with another woman.

Opal finished with her last piece—a voluminous peachy pink ball gown skirt--and moved back to the foot of the bed to sit down beside him. She was close, but not touching him; he wondered at that and all the times he noticed the almost imperceptible flinch when he reached out to touch her. Of course, he understood she didn’t have the experience with the opposite sex he did, but the reaction made him wonder if she was scared of his touch for some other reason. 

Was she? Scared of him? He couldn’t imagine scaring someone, but he supposed he came on strong at times.  And in this situation, he was a believer of instituting a bit of aversion therapy in that he tried to insinuate himself in her space. He wasn’t going to let her run away; she herself had admitted to running on more than one occasion with others.

To that end, he did not let her sit too far away for long. He gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead, right at her hairline, smelling the coconut shampoo in her hair. She was tense for a moment, then her body relaxed, moulding against him. He wanted to kiss her—really kiss her—but considering the reaction, he knew he had to wait.

“This is going to be an excellent weekend,” he murmured. Reassurance… for her and, honestly, for him.

She chuckled. “Says the guy who only has two costumes and like twenty-five geeky shirts. We’re not going to be able to go out much incognito.”

“You’d be surprised how a guy can blend in with the crowd,” he said. “Even me.”

Opal eyed him in suspicion. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“You know how busy these weekends are,” he said. “People don’t really stop to look unless you’re flashy and in an impressive cosplay. And I will have you know I walked around San Diego Comic Con with a Guy mask and a geek shirt and no one cared. Literally, not even Will when I took a photo with him.”

“Will?”

“Smith,” Henry said. “Deadshot? Suicide Squad?”

“I know who Will Smith is!” she scoffed and playfully smacked his arm. “By the way, I am happy that you agreed to do the steampunk one with me. I know Amber thought I was crazy when I had her make you the cloak.”

“I’m glad she did it. She really made all these costumes?” Henry asked.

Opal nodded and smiled. “She taught herself to sew when she was pre-transition. Her mom and dad wouldn’t buy her girl clothes, so she saved up money for an old sewing machine from the thrift shop and started making her own.”

Though he wasn’t Amber’s greatest fan—there were some things Opal had related to him he didn’t particularly agree with—he understood their relationship was long and deep and he could no sooner understand the bond they shared as friends of twenty years than Amber could understand the bond he and Opal shared.

“Oh.” He smiled. “Well, I’m glad she did all the sewing. I did make my Phantom mask and it’s pretty badass. It was like putting a computer together, all intricate moving parts with gears and such. I was so worried about it in my luggage, I carried it on the plane.”

“Can I see it?”

“Eventually. I want you to be surprised.”

“And did you remember the signet ring?”

He wiggled his pinky by way of showing off where he would wear the aforementioned ring. “Yes, it’s in my bag.”

Opal laughed. “Who the heck has a signet ring, anyway? It’s so impossibly crusty British upper class.”

“You said it was the sexiest thing on the Phantom!”

“Sure, on the Phantom,” Opal teased. “You, my good sir, don’t need a ring to be sexy.”

She reached out for him, as though to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down to her, but she awkwardly stopped herself mid-movement, hesitating, then resting her hands in her lap instead.

He reached out and took her hands into his, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull her closer yet. She craned her neck to look up at him. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Stop apologizing,” he instructed. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for anything you want. I refuse to apologize for anything I want.”

Opal huffed. “I know. I’m just awkward.”

“You know you can touch me.” He smiled. “I will never tell you to not touch my hand or my arm or my neck or my— ”

“I get it,” she said, an edge of attitude in her tone. “Like I said, I’m awkward and I always feel like I should ask permission.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Opal looked up again, meeting his eyes for a long time without speaking. She wanted to say something, to divulge some important piece of information. He could see it on her face, but she shook it away and went another direction. “I just keep worrying that if I touch you, you’re going to be nothing more than an apparition.”

“You’re going to have to kill me to get rid of me at this point,” he admitted. “But seriously, Opal, Princess, you have my tacit permission to touch me wherever and whenever you want. If I don’t want to be touched, you’ll know. Got it?”

“Got it,” she said shakily.

She licked her lips and it took everything in his power to not devour her mouth in that moment. Maybe she wanted him to, with that reaction, but he wasn’t sure it was the right time. In fact, if he went that route, they weren’t going to be leaving the bedroom for some time, and he had already made appointments for them elsewhere.

Henry let go of her. “Good. Come on! We have a long day of pampering to get to at the spa.”

“Henry, you didn’t have to do that,” she said. “I would be perfectly happy just hanging out up here.”

“Nonsense, I wanted to. You’ll find that acts of service and gifts are one part of my love language.” He leaned in close to her ear, brushing his lips across her cheek, then the shell of her ear, before whispering, “As is physical touch.”

He delighted at the shiver that vibrated her body against his. As he moved away, he noted how her pupils had dilated in obvious lust. Never to be one to pass up the opportunity, he moved to the other and kissed that ear before purring again, “And trust me, Opal. I plan on touching you a lot.”

Opal shivered more violently, and only stopped when a moan escaped her plump lips. “Curse you and your sex on legs.”

Henry laughed and stood up, holding his hand out to her.  “Come on, Princess. We’re going to be late.”

“Heh,” she murmured, now breathless. “I suppose I never considered how disarming real-life dirty talk was going to be.”

“Princess, you’re in for a big surprise if you think that’s the extent of what you’ll hear out of my mouth.”

Opal rolled her eyes at him, straightening her shirt and smoothing out her hair, though it looked perfectly fine. It wasn’t like he’d wrecked her like he truly wanted. Because he was a gentleman. Yes. A gentleman.

A gentleman who needed a cold shower at some point.

God help him during the couples massage he’d booked.

###

The spa itself was like any other spa Henry had ever been to—sedate taupe walls with muted lighting and the softest flute music floating through the air. Nothing special. However, Opal breathed in deeply as they entered, and he turned to see her eyes flutter closed for a brief second. Her lips quirked up in a beatific smile.

“Already enjoying it?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It just seems relaxing. I’ve never been to a fancy spa before.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” she said, glancing around the room again. “Apparently this is going to be a weekend of firsts.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but an overeager woman came out from behind the front desk.

“Oh, Mr. Cavill,” interrupted the woman, already effusive in her manufactured charm. “Welcome! We’ve been expecting you. We do hope your trip to Atlanta was uneventful.”

He inclined his head in recognition. “It was fine, but I’ve already been here for work. My girlfriend is the one who just arrived this morning.”

At the mention of the word “girlfriend,” the brunette clerk turned her wide, starstruck eyes to the woman beside him. Opal’s grip on his hand loosened, as if she meant to pull away from him, but he squeezed tighter to reassure her. Clearly, the interaction at check in hadn’t helped issues any. What’s more, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the slight change in the clerk’s demeanor when she looked at their clasped hands and then at Opal. Opal wasn’t imagining things.

But this, also, wasn’t something new to him. He could be with any woman and other heterosexual women always did the doubletake, sizing up their competition. It was natural and unfortunately overrepresented in the land of celebrity when the public saw public figures as their commodity, and not as a real person.

A real person who could care less about a brunette flipping her hair flirtatiously over a shoulder. He wasn’t going to mess around with a hamburger when he already had a steak, just like Paul Newman once said.

Opal wasn’t used to it, however, and the previously relaxed grin on her lips flattened into a hard line. The small muscles in her hand had tensed at the other woman’s worsening reaction. There was a split second where he thought Opal might bolt, so he quickly switched tactics, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. He kissed the top of her head, again feeling her tense.

When he looked again for the clerk, he found her back behind the desk, pulling something up on her computer. Business as usual, then. “Right, Mr. Cavill, we have you both down for the couple’s package?

“That’s right,” he said, pressing his hand lightly to the small part of Opal’s back to guide her forward.

“Okay, great.” The clerk’s fake smile was back on her face. “They will call for you momentarily.”

He nodded in understanding and glanced down at Opal again. She turned her face up to look at him, her bright eyes blinking at him. “Does that include massages?”

“That’s generally like the number one thing to do at a spa,” he explained.

“There’s not going to be, uh—” she paused and swallowed hard around a lump in her throat. “What if my massage therapist is male?”

Henry snorted a laugh and lifted his hands up in front of her, flexing his fingers. “Princess, these are the only male hands that are going to be touching you this weekend.”

“What if there’s a woma—”

“Will you stop worrying?” he chided good-naturedly. “I requested one female and one male. They do this on purpose just for this reason. Though, there are those that don’t care.”

“I just…”

He frowned. “What is it?”

“I’m not naturally good with people touching me,” she admitted, though it was soft and breathy, as though said without enough air in her lungs.

He desperately wanted to push further into that discussion, but their attendants came out to guide them to the changing rooms. Opal smiled shyly, blushed, but instead of retreating from him, she curled herself against his side as though he were her protector from the Big Bad Massage Therapists.

And he really liked that. It played to that caveman hindbrain of his; he could play the protector. No, scratch that he wanted to be Protector, with a capital P.

Whoever or whatever created this touch shyness in her would need to be dealt with, too. However, it did lend important context to her unluckiness in love. Most guys would take her reactions as turn offs or too much work and run, but he didn’t see it like that. Maybe it was because they’d had more time to develop such a strong emotional connection online. He wanted to make it work. He wanted to make it all better. So, he planned to put in the effort it required to understand.

“I’ll see you in a few, darling,” he murmured.

“Okay,” she said, the shakiness of nerves evident in her tone. He watched her walk, forgetting just a moment of his concern and instead zeroed in on the way her hips moved in the tight denim that encased them. A thought quickly floated across his mind that he must find the underlying cause of Opal’s touch shyness as soon as was humanly possible. He wasn’t sure how long he could abstain from truly touching her the way he wanted to—or feeling guilty each time she recoiled.

The female therapist must have said something funny because Opal tossed her head back and laughed, defusing her nerves and snapping his attention to the situation. Opal and the therapist turned for one last glance back at him. It relaxed him to see the smile return to Opal’s lips.

When they were finally behind a closed door, Henry followed the slight male massage therapist back into the changing room. When he initially made the appointment, he specifically requested a male and female therapist team; he did it at first because he didn’t want Opal to get the wrong impression about another woman’s hands on him. And though it was unlikely she would have had a male therapist anyway, as there were so few in the profession, he certainly didn’t want to see another man’s hands rubbing all over her. Now he was glad he thought ahead.

He stripped down and replaced his clothes with the robe and slippers provided by the spa. As with all standard sized robes he’d ever worn, the sleeves were tight against his biceps and the tie barely closed the robe, but it did the job.  When he entered the warm, lowly lit treatment room, he sat in one of the chairs and waited for Opal. He smiled when she walked in, noting how tightly she clutched the edges of the soft robe between her breasts.

“Ready for this?” he asked.

Her eyes snapped to his, and she gave him a manic little chuckle. “Did you know you have to be completely naked?”

Henry grinned.  “I did.”

“They let me keep my undies on, but still,” she said.

Henry stood up and went over to her. “Opal, maybe I should have said this before… if you don’t want to do the massage, you can choose anything else from their services. This is supposed to be a fun, relaxing experience. If it’s not—”

She quickly pressed her fingers to his lips, stopping him mid-sentence. “Stop, I’m fine. Really. If I can’t take my clothes off for this, how am I going to in 24… 48… whatever hours?”

“Well, you’d be more comfortable with me after more time together, for one,” he said after taking her hand away from his lips.

She sighed. “I just don’t have the body to be showing my curves off to everyone, you know?”

“I think your curves are lovely. There are a few I want to become better acquainted with,” he said.

The visible part of her chest flushed bright red as he slid his fingers down the open edge of her robe. He teased her by pulling it away from her body slightly, testing how far he could take this without her fainting. Her breathing had already become shallow, her eyes had closed, and even though he wasn’t touching her body, he felt the soft rhythmic whisper of fabric against his fingers as her heart pounded against it.

“As a matter of fact,” he started, “I plan on getting to know these curves better this evening. If you’ll let me, of course.”

Her long eyelashes fluttered open to reveal sky blue eyes that glittered in the low light. There was a mixture of lust and fear there, wrestling with each other. She gave him a slight nod and bit her lower lip, no doubt as a nervous reaction, but he had no control over the pleasure signal it created in his own body. Henry smiled and stepped back, granting her a brief reprieve as he moved strategically behind the massage table.

Her assessing gaze dropped down the length of his robed body, her lips slightly parted, still breathing shallowly. He took the opportunity, holding her gaze with his, to let his robe drop. She might have issues with her body, but he had no problem showing off all that God gave him, as well as all the parts he had worked very long hours in the gym to develop over the years.

Her squeak and deeper blush were worth it, but to her credit, she didn’t turn away. He turned so she could get a better eyeful of his arse as he slid under the warm sheets on the table. He turned his head to find her frozen in place.

He nodded at the tie on her robe… the one her fingers clutched like a lifeline.  “Go ahead, Princess,” he purred. “Your turn.”

“Not a chance, Cavill. Turn your head,” she said.

He let out an exasperated sigh and did as she asked. He wanted so badly to look at her, to drink in her curves, but he had to be true to his word and follow her lead. It was the only way she was going to trust him—that much was clear. So, he rested his head on his folded arms with eyes closed and listened to her shimmy under her own blanket.

When she finished, he opened his eyes. “You doing okay?”

She nodded. “I am. I know I don’t seem like it, but I really am thrilled to be here with you. It’s a lot to take in all at once. You, all the months of talking and not working out who you were, and just, I don’t know. Like I said before, I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and you won’t be real, and you’ll just evaporate like a dream.”

He reached his hand out to take hers. He kissed the back of it. “I’m very much here, and I’m very much into being with you. I’m glad you didn’t leave this morning when you found out who I was.”

She laughed. “I don’t think my legs would have worked well enough to leave, anyway. But, still, I’m not that cruel. I’m not just going to get up and leave. I may be hella nervous, but I’m made of stronger stuff than that.”

“I know you are,” he said finally, squeezing her hand.

Opal shrugged and grinned mischievously. “Besides, where would I get a hotel room at this point in the game? You’re pretty much stuck with me, roomie.”

Henry laughed. “There’s no other person I’d rather be stuck with.”

“You say that now…” she teased.

“Unless there are hidden tentacles under that blanket, you’re not going anywhere,” he said. “And even then, I’d think twice.”

Opal giggled for a long time at that, finally settling down, but not before saying to him, “No one would believe me if I told them I was waiting for a couples massage with you and we were talking about tentacle porn.”

He meant to respond to that, but one of the therapists knocked on the door to begin their massages, effectively ending their conversation. At least they had conversation to fall back on—good conversation, fun conversation. That had always been their strength as they got to know each other online.

If there was communication, then anything was possible.

[angelictaehyun]

PAIRING: idol!hueningkai x reader

GENRE: idol au, f2l au, fluff

WC.1,800+

WARNINGS: none!

SYNOPSIS: He’s had a crush on you for quite a while, which was his sole reason he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Secondly, with some newfound confidence, he has the courage to tell you how he truly feels. Ah, young love...

.

“God, I’m exhausted,” Kai groaned. Taehyun chuckled, patting him on the back, “Hey, at least we’re done performing for today.”

He was insanely sweaty, tired, and drained of energy. Thankfully, a soothing, calming haze soon slowly encompassed him. He stepped into the performer’s waiting room, immediately sliding onto the cold floor, refusing to get up. However, the second he saw you saunter in, your group trailing closely behind, all his lost energy quickly returned to him. You seemed so eager, full of light, and prepared to perform, it made him grin.

He kept to himself, mindlessly scrolling through his phone in the far corner of the room, but all he could think of was the soft, melodious laugh escaping your lips. He toyed with the hem of his shirt, cringing at his obvious, longing stare but he couldn’t help it. He wished he could gather any semblance of confidence, he truly wanted to converse with you, but his big, fat, stupid crush prevented him. He thought of the way you lit up a room just by smiling, the way you effortlessly commanded attention, and the way you smelled like strawber—

“Jesus, Kai... stop staring. It’s creeping me and everyone else out,” Taehyun pointedly stated. He raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue, teasing the younger for his not-so-little crush.

Kai immediately snapped out of his trance, too lost in his mind to even notice he was openly staring, “Oh, shit. Y/N didn’t see me, right...”

He didn’t know why he asked, your back faced him. He couldn’t see your face but he could still picture your bright, lovely smile. Taehyun rolled his eyes, “Y/N’s too preoccupied with Yeonjun’s story. You’re fine.”

Kai exhaled a deep sigh of relief and tried to train his mind anywhere else, but that task proved difficult whenever you were in his general vicinity. He yearningly watched you twirl around, your hair whirling with you — practically in slow motion. He hummed, heart practically shooting out of his eyes. Subsequently, Taehyun gagged. You had Kai wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even know.

You, on the other hand, suspiciously backed away from your group, hoping they wouldn’t notice your missing presence. Your clicking heel didn’t aid in your effort, but you succeeded nonetheless. He studied you intently as your gaze darted around the room, making sure no one saw you. He narrowed his eyes, you seemed nasty, fishy, easily intriguing him.

Yes, being an idol was difficult, but being an idol at an award show... the worst.

You couldn’t do anything! You couldn’t interact with other idols, you couldn’t talk too much, and most importantly, you couldn’t eat until after performing. Honestly, it made sense considering your... graceless snacking habit; you’d likely ruin your perfect, flawless makeup. However, you were stubborn and an avid rule breaker, thus you slowly crept to the snack table, hoping to steal the donut you kept an eye on. You were so close, your fingertip grazing the puffy, saccharine dessert, however, at that moment, your group’s name was announced over the intercom. You jumped and screeched, accidentally squashing the donut in the process; jelly and powdered sugar stuck to your hand. You winced. You flicked your gaze around the room, hoping no one had seen your embarrassment, and when you deemed the coast clear, you calmed. He chuckled, amused by your reaction — you failed to notice his stare. You adorably pouted, making him swoon, before trudging out into the hallway to meet the rest of your group. He followed suit, his own group getting directed into the audience.

He strolled past you as you chatted amongst yourself, secretly hoping you’d notice him. He had an important question to ask, as earlier in the day, he decided to ask you on a date. However, he found himself slowly losing confidence as the day passed. As he walked by, feeling defeated, your eyes strayed onto his broad back, noticing an unzipped gap on the side of his shirt, yet he seemed to pay no mind.

“Hey! Kai!” you yelled across the boisterous hallway. He instantly spun around, arguably too quickly, at your call — your soft, silvery voice was absolute music to his ears. He flashed you a shy smile, it made your heart race a bit faster. You weaved through the buzzing crowd, stumbling right as you landed in front of him. He caught you easily, steadying you with his hand — he hoped you didn’t notice the clamminess, it was embarrassing. He quickly pulled his hand back, conspicuously wiping it against his silk shirt.

“Sorry, I just wanted to let you know your shirt has a hole on the side,” you mumbled softly. His mouth gaped slightly, he hoped it wasn’t like that on stage.

“God, that’s embarrassing.”

He tried grabbing the side of his shirt, but when he couldn’t locate the gap, he began spinning in place, eagerly grasping at his shirt. You couldn’t help but giggle at his resemblance to a golden retriever chasing its tail, he was just too adorable. You firmly planted a hand on his shoulder to stop him, making him blush furiously. You reached out the fiddle with the zipper on his shirt, hoping your breathing remained in check — it was the closest you’d ever stood to him. You focused intently, taking your sweet time as he studied you with a half-smile, too intimidated by your close proximity to speak. You had created a personal, little bubble and you didn’t want to pull away. You glanced up but he hid his face, shifting away from you. He felt nervous, he tried focusing on his group as they interacted amongst each other. He loved talking to you, despite his nervousness, though it was rare. You liked award shows, it allowed you to speak to him... you might’ve been from the same company but you didn’t get much time to interact.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he got cut off by your groupmate calling your name. She tilted her head toward the stage, silently telling you to hurry along. You smoothed over his shirt once more, flashing him a bright smile and cheeky wink before walking away. His breath caught in his throat.

“Good luck, Y/N. Break a leg...” he choked out, unsure of if you heard him or not.

· ──────────────────── ·

Per usual, the spotlight felt invigorating. You adored performing, it gave you a slight buzz, a rush.

Kai obnoxiously cheered as often as he could, though he couldn’t contain his blush as you turned in his direction. He tried his best to keep calm, if he wasn’t cheering, especially due to all the cameras surrounding him, but on the inside, his heart soared. He felt prideful. Your group had won an award that night — two, actually — and while you felt grateful, you couldn’t help but squeal at the sight of food, a bit more excited about that than a trophy. You were quick to leave the stage, choosing your ending ment carefully yet timely, you just really wanted that donut. Your group dispersed around the building while you made an instant beeline for the snack bar. You savored your donut, unhindered, too distracted by the sugary taste to notice the door opening.

“Hey, Y/N...”

You turned toward the sound, mouth full of food. When you landed on Kai’s angelic face, you harshly swallowed and mustered up a sheepish smile, embarrassed that he caught you in the act. He chuckled softly, aware of your love for food; in fact, he’d held a lot of conversations with you in the company’s cafeteria, late into the night. You enjoyed sneaking down to grab a midnight snack after dance practice, and more often than not, Kai was also there enjoying a glass of banana milk. He made sure to be there around the same time as you, and while you scratched it off as a mere coincidence, in reality, he came to see you.

During your pre-performance meeting, he felt the courage to ask you on a date, but he got cut off. Of course, he was nervous as well, you were just too pretty. However, he quickly pushed past that fear, and in that moment, he thought it a better time than not.

“Hey, Y/N... I’ve been meaning to say something,” he mumbled, fidgeting with a loose thread hanging from his sleeve. You noted his discomfort, easily concerning you. You reached your hand out, but before you could say anything, he continued, “... I’d like to take you on a date.”

He timidly chewed on his bottom lip, awaiting your response. You couldn’t help but giggle at his adorable awkwardness which made him panic. You quickly stifled your laugh when you saw his eyes widen, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Yes, yes, of course! I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that... that’s why I’m always at the cafeteria at night... to see you.”

You stared at the floor, feeling shy after your confession. His heart skipped a beat and he instinctively clutched your hand in his. He smiled at you and leaned in, though you could sense his hesitation. After all, he was young and relatively inexperienced. You took the next step, leaning in closer to where your lips barely grazed his when Yeonjun strutted through the door while humming a song, completely unaware of the private moment you were sharing. Yeonjun grabbed his bottle and began chugging, but his gaze slowly fell to your entwined hands and he promptly choked on his water. He mumbled an apology, clumsily stumbling back out into the hallway, but not before sending Kai a knowing wink — he made a mental note to tease the younger as soon as they returned home.

Kai’s eyes widened comically, obvious blush painting his cheeks, meanwhile, you laughed at the secondhand embarrassment. As he processed, you leaned forward to place a kiss on each cheek, leaving him a flustered mess. He dropped your hand to place his on your waist, pulling you in closer. You closed the gap before he could dwell on his anxiousness to press a haste kiss on his soft lips; kissing you felt better than he could’ve imagined — he’d thought about it a lot — and he became hesitant to pull away. You tugged his shirt closer, telling him to keep going, so he relaxed and melted into your soothing touch. He eventually pulled away, keeping his head hovered above your own and pressed a light kiss to your forehead. He joined your hands once more, bringing them against his chest to place against his heart. 

He hummed contently, feeling on top of the world.