#black box provisions

[cruella-devegan]

Black Box Provisions / Canggu, Bali, Indonesia

Tempura vegan prawn, avocado, cucumber, vegan wasabi mayo, pickled chili, crispy shallots, teriyaki sauce

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; “Kara gets to Earth on time and the Kents get a two-for-one special on free kids”. tw: panic attack, past trauma. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kara hears the heavy hatch doors slam shut behind them and collapses at the pitch-black bottom of the stairs with a despairing keen, and they’re all alone again, they’re alone, everyone’s left them, everyone will always leave them, always send them away, never let them stay even if it means– 

And then there’s the quietest little click, and artificial light blooms from the single glass vial that’s hanging from the ceiling, and Kara realizes–Ma’s standing under the vial of light, holding a beaded metal string attached to it, and Pa’s crouching down behind her and Kal to lay a hand on her back, making those hissing noises again and again, and the crashing . . . 

She can still hear the crashing, but . . . but it’s not so . . . it’s muffled, now, and more distant, and . . . and . . . 

It’s–a room. There’s . . . a pair of chairs, and no windows or doors besides the hatch behind them, just smooth liquid-stone floors and walls, and shelves full of . . . provisions, it looks like, and some rolled-up blankets wrapped in the odd clear material that looks like glass but isn’t, and two more one-lensed metal cylinders like the one Ma had inside, along with more boxes of those fat white wax cylinders and other things that look like they might be . . . emergency supplies, maybe, and . . . 

And Ma and Pa are here. 

Ma and Pa didn’t leave them. 

Kara bursts into tears all over again and curls down in on herself; wraps herself around Kal completely, and he cries into her chest where the crest of El doesn’t sit anymore, and she cries all over him. The crashing keeps going, but not loud enough to be too painful or disorienting anymore, and she can only barely hear the wind and rain except for where it’s hitting the heavy metal doors of the hatch. 

“Et-suh aw-rite, dee-eer,” Ma says softly, coming over and leaning down to hold her hands out to her, and Kara cries even harder. Ma’s voice is just as flat as ever, even with the quiet echo of it against the liquid-stone walls, but she’s never been so grateful to hear it. 

She throws the arm that isn’t holding Kal around Ma’s back before she can stop herself, before she can hold herself back from such an embarrassment of a display, and Ma just sinks down to her knees right in front of her and wraps her own arms around her and Kal in return, and so does Pa. 

“Thuh-air thuh-air, Ka-Lair,” Pa says, low and soothing, or at least Kara thinks “soothing” is what that tone means, from the aliens. “Jes thunn-darr, bay-bee gurr. Dunn bee scuh air-duh. Wurr suh ay-fuh dhow eer, yuh?”

Kara doesn’t know what he’s saying–“thunn-darr” was a word she remembers he’d said before, when this was still starting, though she still doesn’t know what it means, and . . . and maybe this is how weather is normally scheduled on this planet? Or at least in this area? Because of . . . the farms, maybe, or . . . ?  

And Kara–Kara realizes . . . Ma and Pa . . . Ma and Pa weren’t acting like it hurt when they heard the crashing. And all these supplies–they had all these same supplies set out in the kitchen all ready to be used right there, and seemed in no rush to leave the house or anything like that at all. They were already 

. . . did they only bring them down here because of her and Kal, not . . . ? 

Is it–do they have some sort of a neural implant to filter out the volume, maybe? Or some genetic modification or adaptation? Or maybe the crashing just doesn't sound so loud to ears that are used to flat alien voices? Maybe the crashing is–maybe it is something normal, here. Maybe it just–maybe whatever it is just happens, sometimes. Maybe the aliens’ weather modulators are less sophisticated than Krypton’s were and just make sounds like that, same as all the aliens’ transport vehicles are so noisy and shuddery. 

Ma and Pa only look worried about them, is the thing. Just them. Nothing else. They're only hugging them; not at all concerned with checking on each other, and clearly not worried about anything in the room or even themselves personally. Whatever's happening outside, they're used to it and don't think it's dangerous at all. 

That is . . . so embarrassing, Kara thinks, trying not to cringe as she shifts back out of Ma's arms and sniffs wetly; scrubs a rough fist across her eyes as Kal fusses unhappily in her lap. It’s shameful and indecent and pathetic, to cry and shriek and panic like that in front of anyone. It’d be shameful to act like that in front of a member of their family register, even. Ma and Pa have been so kind, so much kinder than they ever needed to be, and she's repaying that by getting scared of some perfectly normal thing they're both used to and not even concerned about as a threat? 

That's so–she doesn't even know how she'll show her face in front of their pretty little yellow sun when it comes back, after doubting it like that. After thinking it could've abandoned them like that. She hopes it’ll understand, but she still feels like an idiot; still feels like an embarrassment. 

What would her parents think of her, panicking over nothing and shaming their house and only upsetting Kal worse when she was supposed to be protecting him? What would their family think of her? 

Ma and Pa must think she’s being ridiculous. Must think she’s useless. Must think–

[danihow]

Stare

Jack Sparrow x Fem!Reader C. Is it so hard for you to believe I love you? 7. You are so so pretty I can’t help but stare and you caught me. Requested by anonnie.

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: In which the reader realizes she cares for captain Jack Sparrow (idk).

Warning: Angst, crack, fluff, rum, drinking, (?).

A/N: I didn't realize i was writing in fem reader until i revised it, and also, i loved the tropes but it got lost by the end, i'm so sorry i butchered it. LIKE IT DOESN'T EVEN HAS A SUMMARY OMG.+ I HATE ITTT.

Sailing on board of the Black Pearl was rather... peculiar, if you were to put it in words.

One of the sea's most infamous ships in the seas, captained by one of the most known pirates of the Caribbean; a captain that according to tales was either a hero or the devil himself but to you was just a man with a severe craving for rum and an insane amount of luck by his side.

Still, you would never trade your place in the Pearl's crew by anything else in the world, it was your safe place, your home. From the creaky black floors and the moldy walls to the welcoming crew and the surprisingly insanely smart captain who cared for his crew even if his mouth never expressed it.

"Jack, have you seen Marty?" You ask while you walk past him, the Pearl was anchored in Tortuga while replenishing of provisions and the guys of the crew relaxed for a while; it was less to say to say you were a bit surprised to see Jack on board and not in a bar. "Wait why are you still on deck?"

"To answer your multiple and incessantly questions, love, one, I haven't seen Marty, two, I... I just didn't feel like it." He said, the first answer you knew was sincere but the second one was not all that honest by the way his gaze diverted further to the floor and his hands made that little gesture he does when unsure.

"You know you don't have to lie to me, Jack." You say, a raised brow inquiring for a deeper answer while Jack walked away from you. "Actually, you've been acting quite strange these past days."

"Strange?" He reiterates, brows furrowing and lips pouting right before his hands flew around him discarding your words. "You are one to tell that lass." He says, walking around you going to the hold for some of the new rum bottles. "If anything-" He starts again, some rummaging interrupting him before a satisfied hum sounds again. "You be far more strange...er."

While walking back on deck he walks again past you to his cabin, stopping at the door. "Ye should go and have some fun love, you look rather distressed." He says before closing the door behind him, leaving you rather confused in your place.

Out of all the words you just said to the captain it appeared he understood none and replied with less. To anyone else it would appear normal from Sparrow but something in your gut said it just wasn't as right as it seemed.

With a huff you turn on your heels ready to walk off the Pearl, feeling sick due to the annoyingly fleeting butterflies that seemed to rise in your belly every time he called you love even though he called every woman he met that way.

"He's so stupid." You mutter, chugging down some rum mixed with some fruity juice Gibbs handed to you once you sat down beside him at the bar, bottles flying above your head and yelling perforing your eardrums.

"Who? Jack?" He says absentmindedly while eyeing who to take another rum bottle from, hand flying to grab a drunk man's one and exchanging for is water full one. Satisfied grin on his face.

"Why is he so... confusing?" You ask again, another gulp from the bottle before giving it back to Gibbs. "Like, what is the point of answering something you never inquired about?"

"Jack be kind of... a surprise box." He says, alternating from which bottle he drinks from. "He may not say what you want to hear but more of what you need to hear."

"Well, in that case there's nothing usable in his words." You huff, Gibbs shrugging your making you groan.

"Why do you care so much either way? Ye can just let'm be lass." He opines, face scrunching at the sight of someone falling down the second floor.

"I don't care!" You exclaim, slamming your hand down the table as you turn to him.

"Whatever let you sleep at night." He mutters, patting your back before standing up, leaving you a bottle of rum and your thoughts.

Some weeks after departing from Tortuga you came to the realization that, unfortunately, you do care.

And is driving you insane.

"Let's head north, Master Gibbs!" Jack exclaimed as hi pocketed his compass, however he seemed not too sure of the directions of course that had to be taken.

"Ye heard the captain!" Gibbs recalled loudly, everyone moving to occupy themselves as loud chattering filled the deck.

Jack, however, stood in place on deck by the helm, guiding the Pearl as he seemed to be deep in his mind and a few feet away from him, hands in her pockets, stood the only other women on board ever since Anamaria left the crew, you.

Ever since talking to Gibbs in Tortuga your mind has all but stopped thinking about the man that now stood in front of you; some time ago you could’ve sworn you had good taste in men but now, you weren't so sure as you could look at him per various minutes without growing bored of the way his eyes scanned everything around him and how he never failed to do smart remarks in the most serious moments.

You weren't sure at all but what you do know is there is something scarily charming about Jack Sparrow and you can't help but feel uneasy about it.

"Love, even though I may have to accord with you as in I be madly attractive to women, you do need to go and do... whatever it is that you do." Jack stated, turning to look at you with a small lopsided smirk, eyeing your face as it turned as red as a tomato, Jack himself thinking of it as it’s kind of cute, even if he despises tomatoes.

"Right." You nodded, diverting your eyes to wherever else and stepping down to the front deck, away from Jack whose gaze followed you, a sigh leaving him.

"Ye should act on it, Jack." Gibbs dares to say as he steps back on helm.

"Act on what Master Gibbs?" He asks back, Joshamee not letting slide the knowing tone Jack's voice held upon his clueless acting.

"If I know one thing about women it is that they change their mind over a man rather quickly if he doesn’t act on it." He mutters, receiving a hum and a nod from Jack.

However, that small chat from the morning prior left a bitter aftertaste in Jack's heart, something he hadn't felt in a long, long time. It scared him.

They change their mind rather quickly. A voice in Jack's head spoke again, making him shake his head and step out of his cabin into the darkness of the Pearls at night, all of the crew sleeping, and the air silent enough Jack could hear his own breaths.

Squinting his eyes he spots a figure laying against the front deck's rail, eyes staring at the water that expanded endlessly around them. Slowly, he walked closer, his boots making a small creaky noise as he walked up the stairs.

"What are you doing awake Jack?" Your voice whispered to the air, making the captain stop in his tracks while staring at your figure in the night.

"Could ask you the same thing, love." Finally, after some seconds he walked to your side, standing firm with his back against the railing, opposing your posture.

"The sea at night is always beautiful and calming." You mutter, taking in the way the full moon reflected on the calm tides.

"Can't argue with you on that." He smirked, looking down to his compass, the little red arrow spinning for a while before staying still, pointing to his right.

"Now, why is the captain awake?" Your tone held up some diversion, Jack could hear the smile on your face and feel your eyes boring into the right side of his face.

"Couldn't sleep." He simply states. Compass away in his pocket and back drifting away from the railing, ready to walk back.

"You can stay for a while either way, I can leave if you don't want me near." You mutter, backing up to look at him, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in a few days of slipping away from you between tasks and calls.

"Now why wouldn't I want you near me, love?" He asks, sincerely confused as his eyes registered sadness and sorrow in your sweet gaze.

"I don't know, you seem to have been avoiding me these past weeks." you keep on talking as his eyes never falter upon yours. "At first I thought it was just you being weird but now I realized it's only when I’m around." You shrug your shoulders, trying to let it slip of you, but your Captain knew you even if he wanted not to, it was hard for him not to get keen on you.

"There's no need to lie about your feeling lass." He states, feeling almost sad of seeing you shrug your emotions away. "And I have not been avoiding you at all."

"You have"

"Have not."

"You have"

"Have not!" He reiterates, relaxing upon your chuckle reaching his ears.

"You know Jack..." Your voice interrupts the comfortable silence that settled. "When I first got into piracy a few years ago I swore to never care about any mates I had, knowing far well about how dishonored people were becoming as summers passed." To say Jack was intrigued about where you were headed to would be an understatement.

"The thing is, and I don't know why, is has become really hard for me not care about this crew, about the Pearl, and about you." Chuckling, you gaze falls to your hands, head moving almost in a denying demeanor. "I really tried not to care for you, Jack."

"Love..."

"Even Gibbs has come around asking what's up with me, what is it that keeps me looking for you everywhere, it's almost dumb you know..."

"What's dumb?" He had to ask, handheld together tightly to the point his nails clawed his palms.

After a few beats of silence, you force yourself to word it out, the sky shifting as the sunrise came. "How much I ended up loving you."

Jack's face became a poem, an angsty poem as guilt, surprise, shame, sadness, and something else passed behind his features. "I... Really?"

"Just forget it." you quickly recover, straightening yourself and walking away, sensing the betrayal oncoming.

"Is it so hard for you to believe I love you?" You have to ask, turning around in your heels to meet his gaze again, face stern and almost guilty as he stares back at you.

"You wouldn't even bare to imagine how hard it is, Y/N." He says, walking over to you, talking your wrist gently before you walk away on him. "I, meself, can't even come around to put in words how insane you would be if you did love me, darling."

"Why?" Your voice become small, eyes looking up to his as his hand entangled itself in a strand of your hair.

"Because, on which mind it would be correct for a woman like you to fall for a pirate like me, darling." He states, hand falling to his side, ready to let you go,

"Am I not a pirate too, Jack?" You mutter, pinky finger searching for his and tangling them together.

"You could choose not to, you're free to leave this life." Seriously enough his voice responded your question, warmth spreading throughout your chest.

"I would've done that many years ago if I wished for it, wouldn't I?"

"You won't change your mind after, right?" He asks, nose now brushing against yours, eyes searching for anything that tells him to walk away before he isn't able to.

"I will take no offense upon your words, Jack." Your smiling lips brushing against his was enough for him to shorten the distance between you two, the bittersweet taste of rum and herbs that came off Jack was making your knees weaken, hands snaking around your waist to pull you even closer if possible.

"So... this is why you stare so much?" Jack's voice is teasing, a playful smack landing in his chest as you chuckle, walking away from his embrace to wake up the crew as the sun has not risen enough.

[spyridonya]

While on Foothold, Katherine buys 200 cats for several parts of the von Valancius ship, Destiny Hunter. This is to augment the amount cats already on the ship, which were distressingly low.

This distress isn't so much about how much Kadee likes cats, and she does, but the fact cats are still useful in the 41st century. Most void born consider cats to be good luck: They eat vermin and thus provisions largely safe, electrical wiring to protect the casings of the machine spirits, and possible edible cargo. Cats also help prevent disease from spreading throughout the voidship and can thwart the plans of Nurgle.

She kept two cats on the bridge for herself and for her quarters. An orange tabby boy named Tiger and a fluffy black cat named Void. Tiger is known for causing mischief on the bridge, though he knows to stay in Kadee's quarters during warp jumps. Void rarely leaves the Captain's Quarters, preferring to sleep on the bed or one of many cozy chairs. Katherine feeds them, cuddles with them, plays with them, and grooms them... though she'll let servants clean the litter boxes.

[pearlypairings]

I wish you’d write a fic where Trip finds out T’Pol is ticklish

your wish is my command! so much so, that I also posted this ficlet on ao3 as my first ever fic for Enterprise<3

trip x t'pol || fluff, humor, banter || ~1k wc

“You know, when I got the pitch to join Starfleet, I was promised unimaginable adventure, opportunity for technological innovation, a chance to advance mankind in the unchartered territory of space,” Trip lamented, shimmying his upper body to lay flat on his back. “No one mentioned the hours I’d spend trapped in a cargo box with our First Officer.”

T’Pol did not budge; she laid extremely still. In fact, if Trip’s eyes hadn’t adjusted from the past few hours of being held here in the pitch black, he would have been more concerned she’d passed out or fell into some weird Vulcan stasis. But he could see her chest inflate and shrink ever so slightly with what could be made out in the darkness of their snug crate.

They had been sent on an exploration mission for discreet observation only, no contact allowed with the vulnerable, primitive species on the newly discovered M-class Planet. But when their transport had been unintentionally found by the native humanoid species during a windstorm, they’d set it aflame along with most of their medical and survival supplies. Their comms were able to reach the Enterprise, but the transporter pads had already been halted for routine maintenance and would take hours to be put back online.

Instructed to hide safely away from the paranoid populace, Trip and T’pol followed orders and snuck into a storage lot, quickly picking an inconspicuous box to stow away in when the lot was inundated by workers. They had to wait inside, even after the area mostly cleared for midday meals, until their transporter pads or a rescue team would be dispatched. Armed with only phase pistols and communicators, they were hardly enjoying the hours cramped together without any breaks or provisions.

Trip tried to stretch his neck out, but the top of his head met resistance with the scrap wood surrounding them. A bead of disappointed sweat slipped down his spine. He sighed.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were dead. Anybody home?”

She stirred, just a little, near his left side. Her voice kept unusually quiet despite how close they were to each other.

“I would not call this a ‘home,’ Commander Tucker. I also find our predicament exceedingly unpleasant and am trying to meditate until we are free to return to Enterprise.”

“Meditate? Is that all you Vulcans do, meditate? Can you meditate this box to be bigger—because my legs….even my arms….are killin’ me.” Trip said with biting sarcasm, gradually uncurling his elbows maneuvering within the confines of their temporary prison.

“Vulcans do meditate regularly to control our emotions. Something you would likely greatly benefit from, it seems.” T’pol said coolly. “Here, allow me to move so you can have more space for your limbs and your untempered feelings.”

As the slender Vulcan acquiesced to her side allowing him to press his hands out and down, something peculiar happened. His fingers grazed T’pol’s side with the motion—they’d both moved simultaneously, getting in each other’s way as a result. Despite the heat and humid climate, her suit was fairly dry and cooler than his palm, a relief actually from the suffocating heat. Trip could feel the gentle curve of her rib, and for a moment, he wondered if Vulcan women had the same number of ribs as the human counterpart.  His musing didn’t last long as his fingers found the dip of her waist and with it, a hard knee in his thigh and the galaxy’s tiniest squeak. Luckily, his pistol was hitched to his other side, outside of where T’pol could flinch into him.

“Commander, please remove your hand—” T’pol pressed out, squirming uncomfortably and still deeply puncturing his leg with her knee. She sucked in a deep breath. “My side is….sensitive. I am afraid I will hurt you or worse, ruin the mission by being located.”

His hand retreated with the bend of his elbow, letting the rough surface of the wood scratch at his skin. Trip’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you tellin’ me you’re ticklish?”

Her pinned effort to drill a hole into his leg relaxed with the absence of his stretch. T’pol shifted beside him to move onto her back once more, stiffening her arms across her chest.

“I am saying that sensation is extremely…discomforting.”

“I didn’t know Vulcans, with all their peace and control nonsense, could be tickled.” Trip said in awe. A chuckle tumbled out as he turned to face her and at the same time, allow more space for her.

“I assure you this is not typical.”

“Still, I’m keeping note of that for a later date.”

“Hmm,” she murmured. Even in the dark haze of their box, her profile looked pointed and pretty. There was no denying that.

“You know, I was thinkin’—”

Trip’s offer was cut off by the sound of his communicator's incoming signal beeping. Archer’s voice filled the hollow of their box.

“Commander Tucker, T’pol. We’re ready to extract you from the location designated by your communicators. Hold tight a little longer and we’ll have you back on board in no time.”

Trip clicked his receiver. “Message received, sir. Get the mess hall ready for us, ‘cause I’m starving.”

“I’ll turn that request into an order, Trip. See you sooner than later. Archer Out.”

T’pol turned back on her side, slowly this time to look at him. He could barely see the faint reflection of her eyes as she stared at him in the restored silence.

“If you make anyone aware on the Enterprise, Commander Tucker—” “Alright, alright. I know a threat when I hear one. I swear on my dear mother I won’t say a word to anyone else…..” He smirked. “For now. You’ll owe me one.”

[weepinwriter]

“Within the depths of my being, a haunting familiarity lingers. Dread intertwines desire with uncertainty, and I wonder. Who are you?

Name : Nikita

Age : He is in his mid thirties

Height : 6’1

Appearance : Graceful, refined, and sophisticated: you’ll never see Nikita without a small, knowing smile gracing his porcelain face, accentuating his dark, knowing green eyes. Overall, he is rather monochrome, wearing your usual black suit, white-button up, and black tie tailor-made to fit his towering form of 6'1" and match his neatly cut black hair, which is often swept to the side to fall over his left eye (which if you look closely enough to, reflects a crescent moon). And if that wasn’t already enough to make everyone and their mother fall for him, he also likes to wear form-fitting slim black gloves. Additionally he has a scar, a very long and jagged scar that wraps around their left blade and trails all the way down their back in a zig-zagged fashion right down to their tailbone. And a long scar running across his throat.

Personality : Nikita is a very complex individual to deal with, who can be described as a mix of childlike curiosity and mature behavior. He has a calm and relaxed demeanor, but can also be cold and ruthless. Nikita enjoys pushing people's buttons and is proud of his intelligence and attractiveness. He is a skilled manipulator and cannot be trusted completely. He enjoys playing mind games with the inmates, taunting and provoking them relentlessly for some sort of reaction, anything to amuse him. He may act nice to everyone but cares for no one, will gladly climb on the back of others to reach his goal yet breaks at the slightest negative criticism. Will act like nothing's wrong as someone's bleeding all over him, and completely lacks warmth and humanity yet acts like it's his greatest traits. He is known for being flirtatious and enjoys the reactions of others. Nikita is sophisticated and unpredictable, having experienced a lot in his long life.

Background : [ Under Section 28, Article 59 of the Sensitive Information Protection Act, the confidential details pertaining to this individual are currently under stringent safeguarding measures. It is imperative to acknowledge that any unauthorized intrusion upon the privacy and anonymity of government administrators, military personals and warden's from reformation asylums will be met with immediate and irrevocable consequences, without the provision of a preceding trial. We kindly request utmost compliance in refraining from further inquiries or endeavors to access additional information regarding this individual. ]

Likes : lily of the valley, baking cakes, pranking the inmates, stargazing, music boxes, dry fruits (especially walnuts), reading ancient epics, eye pleasing visuals

Dislikes : rude people (the irony), the ocean, getting screamed at, criticisms, potatoes, humans in general, responsibilities, weak people (basically those who can't protect themselves)

Pet peeves : crying, shoes on the bed, obnoxious cracking of body parts, smell of blood (he's used to it, yet it still irks him to an extent)

Trivia :

tends to get hiccups whenever stressed or angry

shit talks everyone to anyone who listens. you see that guy? yeah his breathe smells like rotten potatoes, that girl over there? yeah her hair looks like a cat's balls.

unexpectedly Nikita despises physical contact, which is why he is always seen wearing gloves and if possible chooses not to touch anyone unless absolutely necessary

[dracocheesecake]

Kai's Hair Routine

A drabble inspired by @skauni

Kai let the water pour over his head. Usually, he didn't bother with this-bathing, even at the end of a campaign, felt lavish on the edge of frivolity- but there had been a comment made by a certain someone that he couldn't let slide.

He took out a bottle of the rice water he had made (rice water! During the war, like he was some sort of noble in the Emperor's court!). It was poor stuff, really, having been fermented only a day, with water from nearby streams and rice from his own provisions- of which there was plenty. All that the soldiers ate most days was just rice.

Kai gritted his teeth as he poured some of it over his head, and smoothed it into his mane. It felt somewhat sticky, and he wasn't certain that this would even work- but if it knocked that smug look off of that lip-smacking wannabe buddha's face-

He grumbled and combed his hair out with his fingers (as best as he could- it was thick, and heavily tangled). This was a long process, but by the end he felt he had done something right. He rinsed himself off, dried as quick as he could, put his hanfu back on, and reentered the yurt he shared with his co-general.

Oogway was reading a report, but looked up when Kai's form blocked his light. Kai smirked down at him, his hands on his hips. His mane, freshly dried, hung over his shoulders in shining, black tresses that curled slightly at the ends.

"See?" He said, "I do know how to wash it."

Oogway chuckled. "Yet you still haven't learned to brush it."

Kai's eyes widened. He grit his teeth, flushing to his ears. "I did too!" He snapped, "It's just-"

His jaws shut again. Then he crossed his arms and turned his face away. For all the fearsome titles he had acquired, at that moment he looked like a pouty toddler. Oogway laughed again, but there was a more gentle lilt to it that made Kai soften.

"I know. Come here and we'll see if it can be amended. Maybe you'll end up looking like we can present you at the next treatise signing."

Kai's ears flickered back. He grit his teeth again. "I didn't look that bad," he grumbled. But he still sat down on a mat in front of him, his back turned towards the tortoise so he could work. Oogway picked up a nearby lacquered box, green and gold, and opened it. Inside was a selection of shubi- combs of different fineness.

From amongst these he plucked the largest, a thick-toothed shu of polished jade. He hummed again, then took up a section of Kai's mane, brushing it.

"You were still covered in blood," Oogway noted colloquially, "and mud, and who knows what else. And your mane caught fire after you passed the torches and stayed lit, probably because of all of the grease in it."

"It. Wasn't. That. Bad," Kai insisted. He crossed his arms again, huffing and grumbling under his breath. Oogway rolled his eyes, but dropped it for now. After a moment he continued humming.

"It was thoughtful of Lord Boqin to send you these combs," he said as he worked, rooting out each tangle- and there were plenty of them. Kai snorted.

"And those calligraphed scriptures for you. But if the terms we lay down tonight go over- they will, he doesn't have a choice- he'll be sending assassins next."

Oogway separated the layers and pinned them back with a few fine-toothed bi. "Oh, undoubtedly. But at this point, that just comes with being a warlord. Have to get them first."

He paused after he said this. There was something in his mind that seemed to ring every time he thought like this, every time this subject came up, something that had been bothering him more and more throughout their bloody career; something he would never bring up in front of Kai, of course...But sometimes he wondered: did it have to be this way? Why? Where would it all lead?

Was there another path they could follow, one not so full of bloodshed and treachery, one that would lead them to a life of peace and fulfillment that the glories of war could not provide?

He had been so caught up in these thoughts that he didn't pay mind to his brushing- not until Kai cried out. Oogway blinked out of his reverie, the worry dissipating like a cloud in the wind. He smirked.

"You didn't so much as groan when you got stabbed by a spear," he said, "but you cry when someone tugs on your hair."

"I'M NOT CRYING! YOU'RE TRYING TO PULL MY SCALP OFF, YOU FU-"

Oogway pulled the comb, pulling the mane taut, and Kai's head followed. He winced. Oogway chuckled and eased up some. With more gentleness this time around, he ran his claws through the knots, untangling them. A few more moments, and he began to remove the rest of the combs, finishing by tying Kai's mane partially up in a top bun.

"There. Now you look like one of the Supreme Warlords of All of China," Oogway teased lightly. Kai snorted and rose.

"As long as it doesn't catch fire again," he murmured.

"Well, that depends on how often you wash your hair." He seemed to think for a moment. "...You know, actually- don't wash your hair anymore."

Kai looked at him, tilting his head. "What? Why?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could start gathering the grease from your hair. We might be able to save on lantern oil- don't hit me!" He dodged Kai's blow, giggling.

[omgkatsudonplease]

Lord Harry Potter and the Maiden's Kiss: Diagon Alley, August 1996

Lady Gaunt pulled back to look at her sister more assessingly. “Is this about your missed inheritance, Lord Potter?” she questioned, as Lady Malfoy turned away from her again. “It must have been such a terrible disappointment for you, especially after all the effort you put into trying to court my dearest nephew. But I must say, if you’d actually heard out my husband instead of hiding behind those Muggle beasts you call kin, you would’ve known that we bore no ill will towards you for your attempted courtship.” Harry blinked at her. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” he said slowly, as he tried to remember what Gaunt had said to him shortly before Aunt Petunia ran him over: I would like to discuss certain provisions in the last will and testament of Lord Regulus Black. I am here with a very generous, tempting offer, and you are treating me as if I wish to murder you in broad— “Truly, I don’t think anyone in New Avalon has suffered worse hospitality at the hands of a fellow Most Ancient House,” Lady Gaunt was saying now, looking at Harry as if he was nothing more than a bug that she was about to tread on. “You are fortunate that all we have done is deem you unworthy of our nephew, and not, say, declare a Blood Feud against your House.” A wave of anger and guilt swept over Harry at that, broken only by the unnerving crack of the glass display case beside him suddenly fragmenting like lightning. Lady Gaunt glanced down at the cracks in the case and turned back to him with a smirk. “So if you are casting about for someone to blame for your unhappy circumstances,” she purred, “perhaps you should be looking at someone who would’ve stood to benefit from your failure. Do remind your precious godfather that I have not forgotten nor forgiven his trespass on what he knows is truly mine.” And with that, she collected her white-and-gold gift box and her sister, and haughtily swept out of the shop. The house-elf attendant quickly rushed back to fix the cracked display case, but no amount of magic would be able to fix the cracked feeling in Harry’s chest.

Read HERE on AO3!

[steflionheart]

Cherished

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Pairing: Dan Heng x Caelus

Wordcount: 2.482

tags: AU - canon divergent; soft and fluffy; tooth-rotting fluff; bold Dan Heng; flustered Caelus; Caelus walks in on sleeping Dan Heng and is totally smitten with it and accidentally causes mayhem; but don't worry, it was the best that could've happened :3

“Dan Heng?” Caelus asked, gently knocking only once at the door to the archives. He didn’t want to startle his friend.

Caelus waited for a few moments. Seeing that there was no answer coming from the other side, he assumed that Dan Heng was completely lost in either one of his books or browsing the databank of the Express for any information he was after.

As per usual.

All the more reason for Caelus to bring him the snacks and some calming tea he’d prepared especially for the bookworm.

The Express had stopped by a smaller planet nearby to stock up on provisions not too long ago. Welt and March had been chosen by Himeko to actually go out and get them while Caelus had been assigned with looking after Dan Heng.

Which he gladly did.

They all knew that Dan Heng, once engrossed in his data research, easily lost track of time and didn’t even notice that he was actually in need of something. So they’d all decided to mostly let him be, but check in on him regularly to make sure he didn’t dehydrate or starve himself.

“Coming in now, hope you’re not undressed!” Caelus chuckled before pressing the lock on the door to Dan Heng’s room.

He blushed slightly at the idea of actually finding an undressed Dan Heng in the archives but immediately pushed the thought aside.

‘Not the right time for such indecent daydreams,’ he reminded himself.

The door slid open with a soft shuffling sound and revealed the familiar, mostly quiet room. The only sounds one could hear was the soft whirring of the machines as well as deep, relaxed breaths, accompanied by soft snoring.

Caelus smiled to himself as he took a step inside, ready to announce himself and the meal he’d brought— but instead, he froze to the spot the very next moment.

‘Snoring?’ he asked himself.

He took another, cautious step forward and craned his neck to look around the data carrier box that was blocking his view. He then spotted a very much fast asleep Dan Heng, comfortably lying on his bed and only half covered by his usual thin quilt.

Caelus stepped slowly closer, focused on not making any sound. He didn’t want to risk waking Dan Heng or even startling him. He then placed the tray gently on the desk to his right before turning around.

Caelus simply stood there and observed Dan Heng’s sleeping figure.

His handsome face and posture seemed relaxed but Caelus noticed the slight twitching of muscles and how Dan Heng’s eyes danced behind his lids.

‘He must be dreaming,’ Caelus assumed as he took yet another few steps forward and stopped right beside Dan Heng’s bed. ‘I hope it’s a pleasant one for once. He deserves it.’

Caelus smiled gently to himself as he thought those words, a sense of fondness and warmth settling deep in his chest and spreading through his whole body. The longer he gazed at Dan Heng’s sleeping face, yet another strange sensation nearly overwhelmed him.

A deeply rooted longing suddenly clutched at his heart and squeezed it tightly.

He wondered what it meant at first until the moment his body eventually acted on its own. He lowered himself into a squat as his eyes wandered over Dan Heng’s delicate features and his right hand automatically stretched out towards the black-haired man’s face.

Almost reaching its destination, Caelus’ hand suddenly froze mere inches away from Dan Heng’s cheek as the latter stirred slightly. Dan Heng inhaled deeply before sighing and finally falling back into a relaxed state.

Caelus exhaled quietly, releasing the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding in. He noticed his hand, still hovering above Dan Heng’s beautiful face. Shaking his head slightly, he closed his eyes for a brief moment.

‘What do you think you’re doing here, idiot? Get a grip already, you can’t just touch him while he’s sleeping!’ he scolded himself. He retreated his hand and slowly dragged it over his face instead as he groaned inwardly.

The moment he opened his eyes again, his breath hitched.

Dan Heng’s pale indigo eyes were staring right into his amber ones and Caelus startled with a gasp. He wanted to retreat by standing up but instead, he felt his whole body tipping backwards as he lost his balance.

The last thing he saw was Dan Heng’s eyes growing wide in shock before he called out to him.

“Watch out!”

Knowing full well that there was the metal railing right behind him, Caelus could not do much except for bracing himself for the impact. He clenched his eyes shut and pulled his shoulders up to his ears in a weak attempt to protect his head. At the same time, his hands reached down to somewhat lessen the impact on the floor.

But against his worst expectations, he felt a strong hand clutching the back of his head instead, while another settled around his back as they both pulled him flush against a sturdy chest.

Caelus needed a moment to process what exactly had happened and as he eventually dared to open his eyes again, he found himself surrounded by darkness. He wondered if he’d actually managed to hit his head and if he’d fainted.

That was, until a very familiar scent tickled his nose and eventually filled his lungs. He realized that it was way too distinct for it to only be a trick his mind was playing.

Caelus blinked several times but the darkness still didn’t fade, instead he noticed an increasingly faster and with each moment passing louder thumping sound. It felt unsettling but at the same time strangely soothing as it almost sounded like a heartbeat; way too fast and excited for its owner’s well-being.

He tried to move but the iron grip around his body only tightened and he groaned quietly as breathing became harder.

Slowly but surely, Caelus’ clouded mind cleared again and he became aware of where and in what situation he was.

The darkness surrounding him was actually Dan Heng’s black shirt as the silver-haired man realized that his face was pressed into his friend’s chest. Hence, why breathing was hard, too.

And the by now steadily fast and loud thumping sound was nothing other than Dan Heng’s heavily beating heart right underneath where his head was currently resting.

Caelus felt a wave of panic wash over him as he tried once again to move, realizing how close they were. He tried to lean back from Dan Heng but the other man was still holding him firmly against his body. Caelus managed to at least move his legs so that he was finally kneeling on the floor and not in a crouching position anymore.

The muscles in his thighs seemed to thank him and they pleasantly tingled as the blood rushed back through them.

A few more moments passed in which Caelus finally found the courage to lift his own arms and carefully wrap them around Dan Heng’s trembling body. It must’ve been straining to stay in this position or could it be… was he anxious or even terrified?

“Dan Heng…” Caelus muttered, voice muffled against the soft fabric of the other’s shirt. “I’m okay, you can let go now.”

The black-haired man inhaled a shaky breath and slowly loosened his embrace as he released that breath again. Caelus eventually blinked against the bright lights of the archive as he took a deep breath of his own.

His eyes immediately found Dan Heng’s.

Amber stared into pale indigo as seconds passed, hands still resting on each other’s arms as they both simply couldn’t do anything else but gaze at each other.

They were both kneeling on the floor, Dan Heng panting slightly with concern evidently written all over his features as his eyes scanned Caelus’ face intently. Caelus was taken aback at the sight of his friend being so worried, almost panicked even.

“A-are you really okay? Y-you… you didn’t get hurt?” Dan Heng asked and Caelus heard the light trembling in his voice. Caelus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise and he unconsciously squeezed Dan Heng’s forearms, where his hands were still resting.

“I’m fine, Dan Heng, really. You… saved me,” Caelus reassured him with a breathless smile and just a moment later, Dan Heng’s body slumped as he let out a breath of relief.

“I’m so glad… I couldn’t forgive myself if— if you got hurt because I startled you.”

His words were merely above a whisper, almost unintelligible but Caelus could easily make out the fear and honesty in them. A soft smile naturally found its way onto his lips.

He huffed a single breath of laughter before he confessed. “If anything, I shouldn’t have been here in the first place, so it was my fault anyway. I’m sorry, I woke you up.”

Dan Heng’s head snapped up, eyebrows knitted in confusion as it was written plainly all over his beautiful face. His delicate lips were slightly parted and the sudden urge to taste them almost threw Caelus off his feet again. He blinked and dismissed the thought as soon as it popped up in his mind as Dan Heng spoke up.

“Right… What were you doing here?” he tilted his head slightly, lifting one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows in question.

Suddenly aware of them still being way too close, Caelus practically jumped up from the floor onto his feet and moved over to the desk where he’d left off the tray earlier. A flush crept up his neck and he desperately tried to wish it away.

To no avail, though.

Dan Heng just watched him, once again utterly confused until he saw a blushing, flustered Caelus simply standing there with the tray in his hands and mumbling.

“I wanted to check in on you and brought some snacks and tea…”

Caelus’ gaze snapped briefly to Dan Heng’s but immediately away again as he flushed even harder. He smiled sheepishly at his next words.

“You know best how immersed in your books or research you can get, so you often forget to eat or drink. I ju—” Caelus took a deep breath in an attempt to finish what he was trying to say. “I-I just wanted to…”

Dan Heng’s smile was fond and understanding was written all over his face as he got up himself and took the few steps towards Caelus. It was a genuine and heartfelt smile; a smile he rarely ever showed anyone.

Caelus was one of the very few, lucky devils that had witnessed it once before, yet he was still as mesmerized by it as he was the first time.

Dan Heng then reached out with his right hand and gently cupped Caelus’ cheek as he finished what the silver-haired man was actually trying to say.

“You just wanted to look out for me,” he simply stated, voice soft and affectionate. “Thanks for taking care of me, I really appreciate you.”

After another brief moment, Dan Heng retreated but the soft smile from before still lingered on his lips as he took the tray from Caelus’ hands. He placed it on the desk beside him before grabbing one of the sandwiches and taking a bite. He savored the taste, eyes closing briefly before he groaned quietly.

Dan Heng swallowed and his Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down; and all the while, Caelus’ eyes had been fixed on him, captivated by every single movement.

He eventually snapped out of his trance as Dan Heng reached out for the cup to take a sip of the by now merely lukewarm tea. Apparently, it didn’t bother him at all as he let out a content sigh after placing it back on the tray.

Dan Heng’s eyes found Caelus’ once again, gaze tender and voice soft as he spoke.

“Thank you, Cae, that was exactly what I needed now.”

Caelus was surprised that Dan Heng suddenly called him by a nickname and once again that afternoon, a bright pink blush settled high on his cheekbones as he sheepishly rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. His eyes wandered to the ground for a short moment before he looked back up at Dan Heng.

His voice cracked slightly as he answered. “Y-you’re most welcome. I… hope it was to your liking.”

“Mhm, it was delicious,” Dan Heng replied before closing the distance between them.

He leaned in, his face suddenly close as their gazes locked briefly and Caelus swallowed hard at that. Dan Heng then moved another few inches closer, past Caelus’ face. His body was taut in anticipation until Caelus eventually felt soft lips pressing gently against his left cheek.

It felt better than he could’ve ever imagined; Caelus’ skin tingled where Dan Heng’s lips touched it, sending a pleasant warmth surging through his whole body as the tension slowly subsided, and he practically melted into the touch.

Caelus wanted this moment to last longer— to last forever even, if possible— but he dared to doubt the possibility of this ever happening again.

‘It was probably just a spur-of-the-moment thing, don’t read too much into it,’ he thought to himself.

But against all odds, Dan Heng didn’t leave much room for any doubts.

“I gotta admit, I really like this,” he whispered. He leaned back slightly, cupping Caelus’ face in both hands as he stared into the other’s eyes and continued. “Will you bring me snacks and tea every day, from now on?”

Caelus was captivated by the intensity of Dan Heng’s gaze as he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and simply nodded. He didn’t trust his voice at that moment.

And Dan Heng seemed to be satisfied as yet another gentle smile spread on his lips before he tightly wrapped his arms around Caelus' body, who returned the embrace with just as much eagerness.

They both enjoyed the moment and their closeness for just a bit longer, reveling in each other’s scent and warmth and just the feeling of each other.

Until three loud knocks at the door eventually interrupted their shared moment.

“Dan Heng? We’re back!” March called through the closed door. “Enough locking yourself up in there. Come on, hang out with us in the parlor car, we brought something for you.”

Both men pulled back and looked at each other for a short moment before chuckling at March’s order. Dan Heng then let go and his hand slid down along Caelus’ arm until it clasped around the other’s hand.

It felt amazing.

It felt right.

It felt like the most natural thing in the whole universe.

Fingers intertwining, Dan Heng then turned towards the door and gently dragged Caelus along.

Caelus couldn’t help but smile happily, gaze fixed on their joined hands as they both left the archive and headed towards the parlor car.

As demanded by March.

[deada55]

Kloktober 2024 day 1: Your Favorite Character

A little glimpse of the future.

The roof of a crumpled hangar was held aloft the rest of the shambling NuHaus, which was as posh of a residence as anything could be in the everlasting waste. Around it grew a shantytown of tarps and rope made from black skinnyjeans to house the army, simply because they had been too exhausted to move. Still, without many provisions, a fierce and snappy economy in the encampment meant that Dethklok’s spacious digs were the limit of their wealth. They sat around a table made of crates and a sheet of heavy plastic from the bed of a truck, surrounded by a motley crew of makeshift chairs, most of the time.

“Murderface, I’m gonna kill you. I mean it.” Pickles hands were ruled by tremors these days, but the grip that he had on a tomato jar of hooch was well-controlled.

“Just a sip, man! You fuckin- you get all the booze we get!” 

“That’s because Pickle don’ts feels good!” Toki felt fine; he was putting pillbugs in a little box with little nature-y bits arranged like dollhouse furniture. “Gots all fucked up sobers. Not evens canned paints…”

Skwisgaar was plucking at makeshift strings on a tinny cigarbox guitar made out of a muffler. Metal. The tuner ran out of battery a while ago, so he superglued it to a couple of dog bones and made a shitty clip.

All Nathan did was grunt and watch a line snake through the shacks and huts carrying poles with white flags flopping in the sandy gusts. Four or five makeshift caskets, one of which was a sealed commercial trash can held sideways for a child, were carried on soldiers. Together, the processional headed north out of the encampment, over a shallow ridge of broken earth, as a snow of falling ash blew in.

“Nathan?” Pickles flicked the metal lid off his jar and took a fat swallow.

“Yeah?”

“Takes the picture, it lasts longer!” Toki shouted over Pickles and giggled.

Nathan turned away from the window and back towards the center of the room, flat. “We don’t have a camera.”

“I-“ Pickles couldn’t get a word in.

“Ans no powers, no amps, no phones,”

“No more, what’s it do,” Toki rose from criss-cross-applesauce to a kneel, neglecting his pillbug palace. “Brr— the ring?”

“Tokis—“ Skwisgaar tried to correct his rendition of their old ringtone under the conversation.

“No calls,” offered Pickles.

“Or getting called by our fuckin’ parentsh!”, Murderface chortled.

Pickles tossed a scraggly, singed dread off of his neck. “Yeah! Now we don’t have to watch their stupid DVDs, or listen to them go on and on on the phone.”

“We don’ts have to know wheres they are and whos they with all nights long durings the working week!”

Toki was rubbing his legs with the palms of his hands. “We don’t even know if theys alive, ha-ha!”

Nathan sighed.

So what if his parents were dead?

He dug deep into his pockets until he found a battered Ibuprofen bottle and pulled out two 2mg Xanax. He leaned over the table and snatched the jar while he ground the pills between his teeth. He swished the drink in his mouth and finished whatever was left in it. 

“Nathans?”

He didn’t realize he was breathing out of his mouth until his own spit came down the wrong way, down his throat already butchered with a slowly disintegrating tablet and vinegary jail booze. He choked until his eyes stung. How long? He couldn’t catch his breath, just hold it. It forced its way out like a sob. 

“He’ms gonna pass out-!” Skwisgaar didn’t even bother standing up. An object in motion stays in motion.

When Nathan’s chest hit the edge of the table, he took it with him to the ground. The empty jar smashed on the dirt beside him.

“Schit!”

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Juniper Aldwir x Lucanis Dellamorte

1 2 3

mmmmmn gonna just start throwing all my rook/lucanis writing scraps on here in whatever order i write them until i get their voices right... maybe eventually ill take them and flesh them out for ao3 but not bothering with that for now. this is the equivalent of stretching at the moment

*****

Lucanis is out of things to do, which is a problem, because that means his mind now has room for thoughts to come creeping back in. Everything is different, after the Ossurary, but somehow nothing like he imagined. He can't look anyone in the Crows in the eye, because he knows what they'll see when they look back at him. Illario is off running house Dellamorte.

Caterina is gone.

So instead he has picked up the scattered cups and plates and stacked them as neatly as he could, and swept and dusted and mopped the entire kitchen. He took the strange, slightly glittery piles of rubble and dirt to the edge of the stone floor outside one after another, and watched them tumble dizzyingly out of sight below. He can’t say for certain, but he thought they fell slower than they should, as though sinking through water rather than empty air. It's unnerving. He has already peered into every cabinet and jar and box he can find in the pantry, and even started making a list of what they hold and what should be purchased to supplement the provisions. And then he simply… didn’t leave. It was quiet in there, next to the cheese and the raisins. He thinks perhaps he should be less comfortable in small rooms now, but the opposite has happened—stepping outside feels overwhelming, the scope and scale of it all. Like at any moment he too could start floating upward, with nothing to anchor himself and no one to pull him back down to earth. The stone walls around him now are easier. Safer. Familiar.

It is also, crucially, kind of boring.

Spite paid attention through the cleaning—interested in the newness of the tasks, as routine as they felt to Lucanis. But it grew bored during his inventory, fading from his vision to a dull ache behind his sinuses. So now he sits on the wooden platform at the end of the pantry, and tries not to think, because his thoughts inevitably turn to Caterina, and Zara, and the writhing well of rage and despair inside his chest that threatens to overflow every time he remembers. Even this barest brush of his mind against the topic gains the attention of the demon, a flicker of black and purple around the edges of his sight, like something lurking behind him in the shadows—no. Don’t think about it. Think about what needs to be done instead.

Figuring out when Rook and her handful of companions eat, to start. And whether or not he will be expected to join in the cooking. And if whoever already stashed the small bag of coffee beans on one of the shelves would mind if he borrowed some, before he can fetch his own—that, at least, will be a start. Something to focus on he can actually do, here and now.

And then later, he can think about killing a God.

///

He is beginning to regret insisting he is fine sleeping in the pantry. First Harding asked, then Neve, then Rook, and it was far easier to insist that no, he truly didn’t care where he slept, and yes, he preferred this to having his own precariously floating tower that could detach from the core island of the lighthouse at any moment and send him drifting away into the Fade forever. The kitchen at least feels firmly attached to the same courtyard as the Lighthouse tower itself, and he doesn’t have to walk across any hazardously floating tiles or twisting roots to reach it. It’s not that he’s afraid of heights, or falling—Caterina would have beat that out of him by the time he was knee high if he’d been afflicted to begin with—as much as the sensation that crossing those spaces leaves him so exposed to—what, exactly? No monsters have come swooping down from the sky to pick them off yet. It’s not like whatever lives in this strange, in-between space would care about eating flesh anyway, right? Probably. But still. He doesn’t trust something about it, and all his training tells him to pay attention to those instincts. They’ve saved his life before. Though, they also failed to help him evade Zara’s trap in the first place, so then again maybe not.

Or maybe it’s not even his own fear, driving him to lurk in the corners and shadows. Something about this place has been setting Spite off, in ways it either cannot or will not coherently describe. Shouldn’t a demon be comfortable living closer to the Fade? And why would it care about falling over the edge when Spite clearly is accustomed to flight, to the extent that Lucanis now rockets high into the air every time he so much as tries to jump to land a blow? It’s unnerving, how quickly his muscle memory simply adapted to the changes. Like he’s not the one driving his own body during the chaos of battle anymore.

“OURS,” the demon howls in reply to the thought. “We had a DEAL. Yours AND mine.”

“Right, fine, whatever. Mierda.” He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch the dark copy of himself batter its fists against one of the barrels of raisins. No privacy anywhere anymore, not even in his own head. Closing himself in the pantry was easier than dealing with it. However, part of the initial allure was now the problem. He is very close to the coffee supplies, but also to the rest of the food everyone else shares. They come and go at all hours, and since he’s here and probably in their way, they all also stop to chat. It’s not that he minds the talking as much as there’s so much of it, and he hasn’t had more than a handful of hours sleep each night. Spite keeps waking him up, or worse, not waking him up and seizing control instead. Though, half the time the demon tries, the hard wooden planks beneath his bedroll dig into his back as Spite thrashes his limbs around, which wakes him up and ends the puppetry. And he’d found the candles at least, boxes and boxes of them tucked under a dusty shelf. Spite likes to watch them burn down, and the tiny wicks and wax don’t do much damage if he tries to reach for them with Lucanis’ hands. Unlike the hearth on the other side of the wall.

Voices drift in from the entryay, and he pauses to listen. Bellara and Harding. It was strange to overhear things that weren’t just agonized wails, and he suspects half his unease is simply waiting for screaming to begin that never comes.

“Hey Lucanis, are you in there?” Bellara calls. “Harding offered to make dinner tonight, and I thought, um, maybe we could help.” Her voice is cheerful, but he hears the nearly imperceptible undercurrent of pleading in her tone.

He rubs a hand across his face, trying to clear away the fog of weariness. All year he dreamed of this. Of normal life and cooking and conversation that didn’t end in pain and blood. He has to learn to want it again, somehow. So, “of course,” he calls back to her. “There’s still some fresh vegetables. I’ll bring them out.”

[cruella-devegan]

Black Box Provisions / Canggu, Bali, Indonesia

Karaage, cauliflower, spicy mayo, avocado, cucumber, crispy shallot, sambal oelek, sesame seeds, teriyaki sauce, pickled chili

[auxiliarydetective]

OHC Day Sixteen: Fairytale AU

Some Obscure Fairytales

Do you know Grimm's fairytales? I'm sure you do! But you probably won't know these two that I'm about to reference. They're some of my favourites, the second one being my all-time favourite.

University is still being hard on me, so I didn't get around to making that edit I wanted to make. Instead, I'll just be giving you some thoughts and link you to where you can read English translations of the fairytales I picked!

Kassandra: Die Sieben Raben / The Seven Ravens

There once was a man who had eight children. The eighth of them, a little daughter, fell ill, and he sent the other seven out to find a remedy for her.

The seven children travelled out to the town to procure the remedy, but tragedy befell them and they lost it on their way home. Since none of them dared tell their father, they stayed behind and debated on what they should do.

When the seven of them didn't return, the father became enraged and wished that they shall all turn into ravens. As soon as he had spoken those words, a flurry of wings was heard up above and seven ravens flew over the house, their feathers black as coal.

The sickly daughter, however, came back to health, and kept asking her father about the whereabouts of her siblings. Three times she asked him, and three times she left in disappointment.

"Woe, child," the father said, "how sickly has your mind become! For when it comes to siblings, you have none."

But the daughter refused to believe him, knowing the memories of her siblings to be more than a fevery haze.

One night, she climbed out of her window and snuck away to find her siblings and free them, whatever it may cost. She took nothing as provisions but a loaf of bread for her hunger, a jug of water for her thirst, and a little stool for rest. In the little pocket of her skirt she carried her father's monocle, stolen in the night.

...

You can read the original fairytale here

Ofelia: Die Gänsemagd / The Goose Girl

I honestly don't have many ideas for this, just that it would fit. But this is my favourite fairytale out there, so do yourself a favour and read it here <3

General Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @bravelittleflower @box-of-bats

@eddysocs

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

[ghostlysoaps]

Stargazing

The safe house is surprisingly well-stocked and Soap finds himself grinning at the box of tea hiding behind tins, MRE’s and canned provisions. Of the bagged variety, though, beggars can’t be choosers. He whips up a mug and walks around the couch Gaz is currently sprawled out on as if he owns the damn thing, ignoring the raised eyebrows and dawning smirk directed at him, as he follows the trail of muddy footprints to the door with a one-fingered salute tossed casually over his shoulder.

It’s a warm evening, the breeze a caress against his bare arms, where insects and birds chirp in tandem. Trees tower above him. Roots coiled every which way, tugging at his toes in an attempt to trip him. His boots sink into the soft earth with every step as he navigates the impenetrable darkness with only the barest wisps of moonlight filtering in through the leafed crowns. Not a bad place to be in all honesty. As if they’re holed up together for a hunting trip and not fresh out of razing a guerilla encampment to the ground.

Eventually, the awning of trees gives way to an open field and at its edge stands a lone figure.

He blends into his surroundings, giving credit to that of his callsign, leaning against a thick, bark-ladened trunk with his arms crossed over his chest and his face tilted towards the sky. At ease. Serene. 

Well… if Soap hadn’t known where most of his knives are hidden and how his hand is dangerously close to wrapping around the hilt of one.

“Dinnae ye dare, Lieutenant, or you’ll end up short of a Sergeant an’ a cuppa both.”

Ghost shifts surreptitiously, away from the wickedness of steel, in a motion noticeable only to a trained eye.

“Be a waste of tea I s’pose,” he replies, glancing at Soap from the corner of his eye.

Johnny presses his lips together against a smile. He knows the bastard is smirking at him beneath black cloth and it would have pissed him off if he didn’t like the way it made his eyes glow with mirth alongside it.

A sliver of skin is all he can see, yet Simon has him hooked through the ribs – snared as helpless prey – and hanging onto every moment he deigns to show more. Waiting and watching and wanting. It’s unprofessional, could tank his career, the ease with which he’d break every rule set before him for a glimpse of the man beneath the mask, and more than that… it’s pathetic. Begging for scraps and wagging his tail whenever Ghost offers him a hint of attention, desperate and yearning for stolen minutes of time.

Banter over the comms aside, these are the moments he cherishes most, when Ghost’s guard is down, when it’s as if they’re the last two men on earth, and Johnny can delude himself into thinking there’s a gentle edge to those brown eyes, a fragment of love returned.

He looks away, up to the same sky Ghost had been searching, counting the constellations he remembers seeing as a child eager to learn from his seanmhair. Black as ink with an unfathomable amount of stars brushed upon it. Johnny’s fingers twitch with the urge to sketch it, though he knows neither the graphite pencils nor ballpoint pen he has with him could hope to capture its beauty. The scattered silver clusters like diamonds, the halfmoon, the wisps of bluish-purple and the chugging satellites – no more than specks on an infinite canvas. 

Engrossed in his own wonder, the prickle he typically feels when observed is nowhere to be found when dark eyes settle upon him.

“You plan on drinking that?”

Johnny startles, can’t with any accuracy tell how long he’d spent cataloging the night’s sky as if they were the freckles Simon sports after days spent in the sun, when the eyeblack gets scrubbed off and their resident ghost sheds one skin for another, plainer variety that hints at approachable. 

“Oh, nae, made it fer ye.”

“Mm. You goin’ sweet on me Johnny?” Simon asks, taking the lukewarm beverage off him with as much care as he shows his service weapon, lifting the lip of his balaclava to rest slightly below the bridge of his nose.

Yes, he thinks, observing the way Simon’s nose scrunches slightly when he brings the lip of the mug up to sniff at, finding the contents lacking and then expressing his distaste in a manner John is far-enough-gone to describe as adorable.

“Maybe,” is what he eventually lands on. Less jovial than he’d planned. Too muted to sound like a joke. A product of the environment and a long festering wound begging to be cleaned in order to heal. “You plan on writing me up for it?”

Simon shifts his weight, their arms brushing briefly, seconds ticking by while he chews on his words and cheek alike.

“No. Be a right hypocrite if I did.”

Voice low and matching the gravity of Johnny’s impromptu, not-quite confession. 

“You–”

A hand on his jaw breaks the word in two and stifles whatever he’d planned to say next, and though his face is tilted up it is also dragged away from Simon’s. He can tell from his peripheral that he’s being watched, regarded closely as only a lover – with rumpled sheets tucked up over their waists – could, but there’s not enough leeway to decipher his exact sentiment or expression. Only that it’s there. Something fathomless brewing beneath the surface and projected outwards. A burgeoning Simon isn’t ready for him to see and Johnny, entrenched in it so deep it’s threatening to seep into his lungs, is too cowardly to voice.

“Not now… not yet. Let me drink in the reflection of stars in your eyes,” he says, gravel-smooth, as if the words are less tangible than the ardor behind them. “They’ve never been more beautiful.”

“Alright,” Johnny murmurs, gaze pausing their strain towards Simon to follow his guidance, cheeks flaming.

He defers to Simon the way he does Ghost – not without a slight hint of pushback before he falls in line. Johnny worms his fingers between his skin and Simon’s, takes the digits cradling him gently in his own, and refuses to let go when their entwined hands are led to rest at their sides. His thumb strokes gentle circles over the thick gloves, hoping it can be felt down to the bone, trying in every non-verbal way to project one simple notion; that he’s glad to have this.

[transfloridaresources]

[Photo ID: A car's dashboard and steering wheel in the daytime. A semi translucent black box above the image has orange and white text that reads: 'Equality Florida Emergency Town Hall 02/01/24. Notes compiled by Trans Florida Resources regarding what we currently know about gender markers on Florida driver's licenses.' /End ID]

[Photo ID: A car's dashboard and steering wheel in the daytime. A semi translucent black box above the image has orange and white text that reads: 'What if my ID has already been updated? "There is no reason to believe whatsoever that a person who has a valid, not expired driver's license or ID, that reflects their gender identity, is at any risk of civil or criminal penalties." "You cannot possibly be charged with fraud or misrepresentation of information or withholding of information if you amended your gender marker in compliance with, according to, the policy that existed at the time." - Simone Chriss.' /End ID]

[Photo ID: A car's dashboard and steering wheel in the daytime. A semi translucent black box above the image has orange and white text that reads: 'What if my ID has already been updated? Do not return your ID, do not amend it back. If you are renewing your license, US citizens can do that online and the gender marker should not be affected. Non US citizens have to renew in person. In both US and non US citizen cases, as long as ANY federal document (birth certificate, passport, social security card) has the amended gender on it, it can be used to update a driver's license.' /End ID]

[Photo ID: A car's dashboard and steering wheel in the daytime. A semi translucent black box above the image has orange and white text that reads: 'What if my ID has already been updated? (A screen cap box of text reads) 'The provision that governs how the department establishes gender for a newly issued license won't change, according to the memo and Molly Best, the department's director of communications. Someone can establish their gender for a new Florida license using supporting documents such as a driver's license from another state, a US passport or a US birth certificate, among other documents." Yurcaba, J. (2024, January 30). Florida bars transgender people from changing the sex on their driver's licenses. NBC News. https://www.nbcnews.com/nbc-out/out-news/florida-transgender-drivers-license-sex-change-gender-identity-rcna136395.' /End ID]

[Photo ID: A car's dashboard and steering wheel in the daytime. A semi translucent black box above the image has orange and white text that reads: 'What if my ID hasn't been updated? As long as you have a federal document that states your gender, you aren't affected. If you don't have one at all, that could preclude you from changing the gender marker. Florida birth certificates are no longer being amended at this time (Feb 2024) according to Simone Chriss. Passports with updated gender markers are still possible to acquire. Check out floridanamechange.org for details.' /End ID]

[Photo ID: A car's dashboard and steering wheel in the daytime. A semi translucent black box above the image has orange and white text that reads: 'What if I'm pulled over? What about voting? The police or any individual cannot judge the validity of your ID. There are many layers & courts etc. that decide "fraud." If any pushback occurs, keep referring to the ID as your identity and don't escalate the situation. Make sure your voting information matches your current ID. Any further questions or situations that arise related to this, reach out to Simone: simone.chriss@southernlegal.org.' /End ID]

[Photo ID: A car's dashboard and steering wheel in the daytime. A semi translucent black box above the image has orange and white text that reads: 'What else? This is only a very brief outline of everything that was discussed. The full town hall recording is available across Equality Florida's social media. This is still an ongoing topic & will change as we know more each day. Lawsuits against it will occur. This memo defied many legalities. The key thing to remember is that these things occur & are phrased as they are mostly to just incite panic & fear. Try to relax as much as possible & remember you're in a community & we're all fighting like hell together.' /End ID]

Thank you so much to Equality Florida for putting together this town hall as quickly as they did. If any information here is incorrect or you have any further questions or need clarifications, please feel free to reach out.

[djcube1701]

Raiders of the North Sea: Big Box Edition

Release: 2015

Designer: Shem Phillips

Artist: Mihajlo Dimitrievski

Publisher: Garphill Games

Raiders of the North Sea is the second in a trilogy of games from Shem Phillips. It’s a worker placement game where you have to build up your crew before going out on raids. The pictures depict the game along with expansions Hall of Heroes and Fields of Fame, plus the neoprene playmat which incorporates the new boards from the expansions in a more streamlined manner, as well as looking absolutely gorgeous.

Overview

In Riders of the North Sea, you will start off by collecting resources such as silver and provisions which will enable you to hire crew from the cards in your hands and go on raids. The raids are the main way to score points, but they also get you plunder that can be spent on upbraids, raids, or given away as an offering for more points.

The bottom half of the board is where the main worker placement element of the game takes place, with an interesting mechanic for how turns take place. You start each turn with only one worker that has to go in an empty space. Once you take the action from that turn, you then pick up a worker from a different space and perform that action, meaning you get to do two actions on one turn.

The actions are quite simple: draw cards, play cards for their ability, hire a crew onto your chip, gain resources, increase your armour, gain resources or make an offering for points. The actions taken can change slightly depending in the colour of the worker, with only black workers on the board at the start of the game.

Crew are an important part of Raiders of the North Sea. You can go to the Town Hall to discard them to use their one-use power (depicted by a play icon), or – more importantly – go to the Barracks and pay their cost to place them into your crew. Here, their passive power comes into play which can boost certain actions, gain victory points in the right circumstances or improve raids. The top corner also depicts their military strength, which comes into play when taking raids.

Instead of taking your standard two actions, you can instead go on a raid, as long as you have enough resources. For the starting harbour raids, you simply gain your rewards and a single point (picking up the worker from the raid space to go to our supply as your one worker). Your plunder consists of gold, iron and livestock, but there are also skull tokens, called Valkyrie tokens. If you raid one of these sections, you will need to kill off a crew member for each token. It’s not all bad, as you’ll also move up on the Valkyrie track, which can be a good source of points.

For the more complicated raids, military strength comes into play in order to score points. These raids will have a number of targets in order to score an increasing number of points. The total strength of your crew is combined with the armour track and any additional bonuses (usually crew abilities), along with the roll of one or two dice (depending on the spot you are raiding). As the lowest number on each one is two, it can be handy.

There’s a really nice flow to Raiders of the North Sea, as it builds up throughout the game yet you occasionally need to dip back into resource collection-mode. The end of the game – usually triggered by all but one fortress being taken out – can go from feeling like it’s quite a way away to being close really quickly, and the different tracks and ways of scoring makes it difficult to tell if there is a clear winner mid-game. There’s a really nice flow to the game that makes me coming back for more.

Hall of Heroes

The Hall of Heroes expansion adds a new section to the map alongside a couple of new mechanics. The Mead Hall lets you choose to add one of three face-up cards to your hand, alongside the resources on them (which encourages the cards to be cycled). One of these resources is a new one: mead. Mead can be spent to increase your military strength, although only before you see the result of the dice roll.

After a raid is performed, a quest now comes out. To complete a quest, you go to the Mead Hall and discard cards from your hand matching or exceeding the military strength of the quest. These get you resources and provide more points the more your collect. This provides another use for the cards in the game, and multi-use cards is one board game mechanic that I really love.

The player boards are also really handy to have, with a place for your crew, a reminder of resource limits and a spot for your worker so you know you need to have one at the end of each turn.

Field of Fame

Field of Fame adds a new danger to the plunder mix: Jarl tokens. If any of these are in the spot you are raiding, then you must face a Jarl after your raid. You draw a Jarl card and must choose to kill, subdue or flee.

To kill the jarl, you need to dish out wound tokens amongst your crew. These don’t kill your crew, but reduce their military strength and makes them less effective. Your reward is fame, as you move up the new track (which provides victory points). Subduing a Jarl requires taking fewer wounds, but you must also pay the cost to recruit them into your crew. Fleeing will result in losing fame or victory points.

The Jarls have powerful abilities, often end-game scoring, so while you take a lot of damage, it can be well worth pursuing. The expansion also adds a few new raids and optional dice which adds a Valkyrie mark for some unexpected deaths.

Overview

One great thing about this package is that it feels like a complete game and not something with extras bolted on. The expansions compliment the current systems and add a few more angles you can take for scoring points, while also not complicating the game too much. It’s one of the few game where I would easily play all the expansions with new players.

Raiders of the North Sea is not just a brilliant game, but also looks beautiful, from the lovely artwork to all the nice wooden pieces. It’s one of my favourites from my collection.

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