#but if it's in orbit still then like. yeah. yeah we come in normally and ripping a hole is perhaps not a good idea.

[flatstarcarcosa]

speaking of the sheepdog fic i realized while half asleep last night i need to change the setting from "fully crashed ship" to "derelict ship floating aimlessly in orbit" because if it's planet side i have a glaring fucking plot slash logic hole in the entire fic that, were this a movie i was watching, i would notice that would severely hamper the enjoyment and quality of the rest of the piece.

which is.

why doesn't vader just a rip a hole in the ship to get us out, like how we went in?

[brattyspence]

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him. 

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it. 

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work. 

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him. 

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen. 

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was… Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you. 

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…” 

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through 

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys. 

-

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...’nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here” 

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says. 

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused. 

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him. 

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you. 

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still. 

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.” 

“You don't like it?” 

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady. 

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting. 

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside. 

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?” 

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever. 

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over. 

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail. 

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?” 

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor. 

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies. 

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground. 

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it. 

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?” 

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity. 

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him. 

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this. 

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals. 

“I think you do love me…” 

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.” 

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed. 

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. “No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you. 

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

[the-moon-files]

Wait, quick idea! Twilight looks like the only hylian in his village because everyone else has round ears, so what if he wasn’t as surprised as the others to see their human companion so resilient, but still fairly impressed because of the fact that most if not all people in his village don’t put themselves in as drastic situations as the reader? Or is this just humans from our world?

get out of my head lmao /lh - you, me, and wayfayrr are actually the same person on diff accounts LMAO

im of the belief that (blame @wayfayrr, my beloved) that he knows of humans bc of some in his village but yeah, just not the type of human in drastic situations

(ALSO they wrote me a fun, long, glorious, male reader human space orc au fic for winning their raffle a bit ago, and it brings up their headcanon abt this and i Adore It actually, check it out here pls if u wanna know🤲)

(also if u see this wayfayrr, sorry for the ping, also should i be calling u moss? or wayfayrr?? idk which, i hope thats even ok to ask 😭 i assumed u would call my ass Moon)

Moon: Male-Masc Reader (he/him)

Orbit: short headcanons-ish, rambling mostly

Stars: Twilight Princess Link (Twi/Twilight), mentions of other Links

Comets & Meteors: CWs: none known, & TWs: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

to reiterate what i said up there, in case u skipped it for the bullet points,

i like the headcanon he knows humans, knows some of their quirks, and how they were the first ppl the other hylian villagers called on to help stuck cows or downed wagons, lots of heavy lifting stuff

but he really hasnt seen the extent of real humans, bc the humans who were in Ordon, well, they lived in hylian society,

why would they need the adrenaline to lift a car when hylians have set up whole tools and systems in all their towns to help lift just a full bucket of water out of the well??

not to mention, i think all the humans in his village were older adults? like at least not the age theyd be doing things like parkour or going to any trampoline parks type of age,

id imagine its more like stories talked about amongst hylians how hard humans can go, and even the humans themselves talked abt things like,

“well compared to u hylians, we have stomachs made of molten lava to you guys really, but we never have to use it, bc u know hylian food works just fine”

when Twi asked they would say stuff like that, but as soon as he saw ur human ass just picking wildflowers and berries off the side of the road to snack on? even random grasses/vines at some point (kudzu)?? easily eating Wild’s Dubious Food that's DEFINITELY got monster parts in it???! gnawing on the bone of a cucco and it just breaks??!!! and you look surprised too, thank fuck finally a normal reaction from u- oh my goddesses u were just curious (damn the elders were right abt human curiosity too) **and are now sucking out the marrow and eating the bone-!!!!!!!!!!!!

Twilight’s perspective of you is actually the equivalent of like, reading stories about vampires all ur life, then this new friend you made starts to get allergic to garlic, crave blood, has crazy strength and advanced senses, etc

and he’s just watching those honest-to-Hylia human mythological feats play out in real time in front of him, like he’s the only self-aware character in the story that immediately clocks the really obvious vampire as a vampire lmao

is the first to either 1. start choking on his laugh as he theoretically knows ur about to jump on the back of a lynel/hinox to ride it around and watch as the others come to the same conclusion OR 2. try to Stop you from jumping on said big monster in an attempt to ride it around bc he gets used to ur human BS quicker than the others and can see it coming a mile away now lol

very much so this meme:

(ur welcome i made it myself <3)

anyway id love to rant abt this dynamic

abt both Twi’s shock at you eating peppers like a god has come down from the sky to prove their immortality,

but also poor rancher esstientally humansitting you too lmao

the Chain/Time/Wars absolutely put him down as the resident human expert like: “ok he just drank like, 5? No- Four stop him from drinking more at least- (dual sighs). okay, 6 stamina potions, will that kill him??”

Twilight, saviour of Hyrule, of the Twili, Link from Twilight Princess himself,

has to keep a record book of all the new shit he’s heard/learned about humans in Ordon, what he has actively learned abt ur ass just fucking around and finding out, and the few bread crumbs of information u give him abt ur species

(that rlly just come off as kind of cryptid statements abt u/humanity, or don't apply in this scenario bc ur only comparison is Earth Rules, which honestly scare every single fucking one of them in the same way as walking on Ganon’s lawn or something, like straight up view ur home planet as enemy territory, the Amazon jungle, the Hyrule wilds if you will-)

Twilight also gets involuntarily volunteered for human-sitting duty too

tbh the only person Not allowed on human-sitting duty, when u guys go new areas esp, is Wild/Hyrule

you’d tell him you wanna get inside the guardian robot to operate it and ride it around and he’d probably be in shock you even fathomed something like that, yet also now EXTREMELY intrigued to watch it play out

(they’re both more of a “u wanna jump off a cliff?? that's actually crazy, wait for me please.” he seems to think he can somehow protect you if he joins you? its worked sometimes to be fair to him ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ just not really conveniently when the rest of the Chain are around lmao)

☆

i live btw, ive been writing/updating fics along with life updates (moving states/new job/online class) so a few asks will hopefully be answered over here in the next 2ish weeks

no promises, my life is kinda girlbossing at the moment too close to the sun and i am Nervous abt disappointing u guys

i already feel like im disappointing my other blog bc i haven't posted in forever bc im writing a fic instead of asks during any free time i dedicate to writing for it so :/

pls excuse my super slowness like a package ur waiting for in the mail or smth type of slow

AGAIN thanks for the ask!! i hope this was at least entertaining to read as some addon to what u said, you guys have gotta check out some of wayfayrr’s stuff if ur into this, bc they're the only other place i can think of that's talked abt humans not just being the same as hylians

have a great week!!

Peace out hugs and chaos,

🌙

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 41 - Lovers

In which the fic finally hits the explicit rating. Partial post on here, I'm afraid!

This is a bad idea. Probably your Worst idea, and that's saying a whole lot. But…

On AO3.

Y’all sail on for a time, on this underground, freshwater sea. Now that it’s done, y’all are safe (there weren’t no more boats on that beach), your body cuts all its strings. You slump down against the wall near the rudder and zone out for a while. Blink and come out of it as the hull scrapes over something.

“Huh?” you say.

You’re in another, smaller cave scooped out the side of the wall. The boat just passes through the mouth. It ain’t gonna hide y’all entire, but you ain’t gonna stick out like the only damn boat on this mill pond of a glass-ass surface, neither.

You reach out to the group chat, a casual swipe and not a request to like, merge. They’re all a lot closer. Most of them are grouped into one spot that feels like a planet tugging you out of orbit to join them.

You’re on the right track, then. The drow are dead. You’re pretty sure that birdshark ain’t gonna burrow through a lakebed.

There’s a small beach in the cave. Astarion has landed y’all onto it.

“We’ll set up camp for now,” he says, and good, you didn’t actually fall asleep and lose the last of your dirt potions.

“You sure?” you say.

“You need rest. And so do I, honestly. I have no idea how people do this all day.”

You smile. Just a little.

Y’all don’t got much to unhaul. Just the bags, his weapons, and the knife he returned to you.

“You wanna teleport down there?” you say, standing on the edge, gripping the rope railing and looking at the water you’ll need to wade through.

Astarion slips his necklace out. You only got a vague sense of a memory: horror and pain and writhing, and then he was suddenly gone. Gone totally, from all your senses, even the brainworm. And when you came out of it, when that spell sloughed off like a dead thing and you looked back, you realized he’d done magic. He’d fucking teleported. And you didn’t think there’s been enough time for him to filter through one of them scrolls?

He runs his thumb down one of the links spilling gemstones down his neckline.

“That was some hot shit,” you say. “And, uh, thank you.”

The man fucking preens. Gives a little bow, complete with a leg sweep. “My pleasure. And it was, wasn’t it?”

“Guess you was right about elves and magic.”

“As if there was a doubt. But to answer your question, no, I don’t think I will. Use it, I mean. It feels rather spent.”

And then he steps off the boat and splashes into the water. You lower yourself to slide down after him. And stagger.

He catches your hand in his. Steadies you.

You have to look away for some reason. “Thanks. You know, again.”

But he doesn’t let go. Just looks at you and your cheeks warm.

Everything that’s happened. All this shit. Part of you is still scraped raw, skin stretched too tight over your bones. It hollows out your insides. Starves you for something. And his hand in yours, something about that trickles into that hollow.

You pull away first. Give a tight smile and a nod, and slosh your way to shore.

There ain’t much camp to set up, neither. Though he does bust out the tent for the first time in a while. He starts securing one side, so you start on the other. But he finishes his portion faster than you, and you feel him standing behind you as you struggle to pull the tether tight enough while also trying to tie it off.

“Allow me,” he says. Kneels next to you.

You been closer than this to him. Hell, his lips have been on your neck, twice. Once when you was between the man’s legs. But there’s something different, now. His solid presence next to you. Strong legs, forearms wired with muscle and sinew. He’s…a man. You don’t normally think of people like that. They’re people, yeah. Coworkers. Friends. Cousins.

Astarion is still Astarion, but he’s also a man and you are suddenly, intensely aware of that for some reason. You feel weirdly empty and you want to lean into him, want—

He finishes up. Turns to you with that smarm-ass smirk. “There. All better.”

Your mouth is too dry. You make yourself nod and stand. Don’t got no provisions but what was in the drow’s bag, and the last time you ate from one of them, you tripped absolute balls.

“Should we start a fire?” you say. Look hopefully at the sand.

“Mmm,” he hums and why in the fuck does that sound shoot straight between your legs. “Best not.”

Y’all stand there, the both of you dripping lake water.

“We should probably change,” you say.

He blinks as if startled. Looks down at himself. “Oh, yes of course.”

Then eyeballs you. Seems to think for a long moment. Because your upper half is dry, but made out of ill-fitted drow armor and a tube top straining for its life not to burst at the seams, and your bottom half is a soaked-through hip wrap.

“I,” he starts. His lips press thin. “I do have a spare tunic. Just one. I haven't’ had the time to mend it, but it may fit you.”

Oh. Huh. That’s perfectly practical. You need to get into dry clothes, obviously. That’s just sensible. And of course it’s his shirt, as you don’t got no spares. It’s all straightforward. Got no reason to make your face fucking burn at the thought of wearing his fucking clothes. It’s for hypothermia, no cause for weird…weird heat flashes.

“Ah, and I do still have a blanket. For…” he waves vaguely at your legs.

Right. His blanket. To use as a skirt.

With no underwear on.

“Sure,” you say. You try to sound airy. You completely fail.

He sort of stands there a moment longer, and then straightens. “Right.”

Ducks into the tent and you listen to him rummage around. When he emerges, he holds a bundle out. Gestures for you to go inside the tent. He also holds his pack.

“Let me know once you’ve finished,” he says. Sets down his things. Starts unlacing and unclasping his own armor. Because he’s going to change out here. Because y’all are gonna be in states of almost-naked with nothing between y’all but a layer of tent canvas (so what’s the difference between a layer of tent and a layer of clothes) (oh no, no ma’am, you are not going there).

You change faster than you ever changed in your whole life. Damn near fling your shit off you and claw the new things back on—the shirt smells vaguely of him, but mostly like something that’s been left in a dresser drawer for a couple of years.

The blanket…

You wrap that sucker twice and tie it off. Consider looping it between your legs and tying that too, but then it looks too much like a fucking diaper and you cannot.

You definitely don’t listen to Astarion changing. Definitely don’t think about the way the air smells of him in here. Or the way it makes your skin feel more sensitive. The way the shirt is baggy along the shoulders and through the chest—you laced it up as tight as you could, but it still dips into a “V” into your cleavage—and the way it brushes over your chest lights up your brain.

This is adrenaline. This is that whole “coming down from a fight” thing you read about. That’s all. Just a chemical reaction. Nothing to it. You’ll calm down and get tired and probably fucking crash, and that’ll be that.

Then Astarion goes and says, “Are you finished, darling?”

The soul jar hangs between your breasts. That is entirely too distracting. You gotta take that off and set it right next to your things (against the back of the tent, away from the opening).

“Yeah,” you say. Keep your voice almost normal and give yourself a mental high five for that victory.

Astarion steps into his own tent. He’s back in his usual camp gear, with them tight pants and the high waist, his floofy shirt tucked in, and the chest unlaced enough you can see the dip of his pecs—

You turn away.

He’s been in the tent with you. He’s been in the tent with you wrapped in nothing but the blanket currently preserving your lower modesty. But he couldn’t see then. It shouldn’t make a difference. You’re more covered now than you was then. But now you gone and kissed him and imagined licking up his neck and you’re wearing his spare shirt.

You set your armor on the side opposite your gear. The ground slopes down, so any runoff shouldn’t soak into nothing else. The hip wrap, you duck outside to fling over the top (thank you Gale for waterproof enchanted tents) to let it drip sadly in the cool air. You hope it dries quick, and you find pants, so you can set the thing on fucking fire.

When you come back inside, Astarion has settled himself criss-cross applesauce at one end of the wooden plank he sleeps on. And there’s nothing for you to fuss with, no more. So you stand there. Like a normal person.

“Do you need a healing potion?” he says. “We have several, now.”

You got some scrapes. Some bruises. A goose egg on the back of your head from when you hit the deck after Bitch Queen mind-whammied you (goddamn, you want something, anything to soothe the scraped-thin feeling).

But Astarion got his ass beat by that shithouse of a drow.

“I’m good,” you say. “What about you? You need blood?”

You’re learning to read him better. Enough to catch the flash of want in his eyes before he smothers it away.

“Are you offering, darling?” There’s something strained about his smile. He’s aiming for his suave, offhand breeziness, you suspect. But something tugs along the edges. Something that thins the air in here.

Beside him sits the bedroll y’all pilfered. There’s enough space you can plonk yourself down opposite him and just be within spitting distance. But though he makes no movement, simply gazes up at you, he seems to take up all the empty space on his side of the tent. His long legs tucked in tight, his narrow hips. The way a tendon shows on his neck as he tilts his head to the side.

Goddamn, it’s warm in here. Are you getting sick?

(You’re not getting sick.)

“Darling,” he says. His voice soft, barely above a whisper. It makes your skin blaze.

You have to look at him. Look him in the eye. It’d be rude not to, huh?

His eyes are different. There’s a…heat, there. One you ain’t seen before.

“Your heart’s racing,” he says. Fucking vampire bullshit he can pick up on that.

You run a hand through your hair. Try to snort. It ain’t no big deal. Y’all’re awkward adults having a hot flash. “Yeah. ‘S warm in here. Maybe I should get some air.”

(You absolutely should not get some air.)

He only regards you a moment. Then lifts a hand, palm out. In that same, soft voice, he says, “Come here.”

You actually, literally gulp. A full on “yikes, Scoob” cartoon swallow. Because…you want to. You want to go to him. Be close to him. Let his proximity soothe the frazzle in you and balm the emotional fuckery all broken and shifting inside your chest.

You want to kiss him. You throb between your legs.

You know these signs in isolation. Have heard others describe them, and have experienced them yourself on your own. Just…never directed at somebody. Never in response to somebody lifting a hand, inviting you.

The tent flap is right there. You rejected him once—and he was a messy bitch about it—but you think he’d let you go. He’s been careful with you since that night, on the forest floor, when you spilled your guts. He’s being careful now. Stays where he is, hand lifted and waiting.

You can leave.

But.

You take a breath. Take a step. Your pulse drowns out all other noise, a hard whooshing in your ears. Your body seems made of warmed molasses. And suddenly, you’re right next to him. Staring at his hand.

And still, he waits. Don’t pressure. Don’t grab you. Don’t even say anything. He lets you stand there and shuffle around like the virginal dork you are.

You slide your hand into his. Hope the blush burning across your skin ain’t as visible as it feels (it is).

His palm is soft. Despite all the knife work, all the archery and picking locks and murder. It’s the first time you’ve touched his bare skin (aside from the fucked up hookup in the woods) that wasn’t running away, fighting somebody, examining a wound, or one of you falling somewhere. It ain’t a survival thing (it feels like one, though).

“It’ll be somewhat difficult to reach you up there, darling,” he says.

Right. Blood. That’s what this is. He needs to feed. You’re flailing around like a weirdo, and the man needs supper.

“How should I, uh,” you say. Intelligently.

His other hand comes up. On his other side. Because that’s where his arm is. So you take that hand in your other one. Which means he tugs you to his front.

You try to breathe. There ain’t enough goddamn air. Did y’all find some kinda low oxygen pocket? You’re only grazing his palm with your fingers, but it feels like what you’d imagine sticking a fork into an electrical socket might be like. Except instead of frying your heart, everything shoots to your groin.

And still, he only looks up at you, face painted in shadows and soft, blue light.

You lower down. One knee on either side, until you straddle his goddamn lap.

“Is this alright?” he says.

It takes an awful lot to do the advanced work of “forming a coherent thought”. You do manage a nod, though.

He lets go of your hands. Your own fall into your lap. You ain’t never had less of an idea of what to do with your own limbs in your entire, corn-husking goddamn life.

Jesus lord, the way he’s looking at you. Different from that night. His eyes a little wider. Somehow warmer. All of it fixed on you and you barely manage not to duck your face to hide.

A touch on your chin. Just under your lower lip.

“May I kiss you?” he says.

Oh hey! You did get that translation right! Ain’t that a fucking treat. Cause if you can focus on that, and not how you can feel your blood pressure spiking in your fucking neck, you might not explode and die.

The whisper of demons past hiss up around your spine to fill your skull. Immodest. Draped over this man and thinking of kissing him? Slut. Whore. Sin.

Shame. SHAME.

All of it clashes together and your hands tremble when you twist your fingers together in your lap.

“Yes,” you say. It comes out a half-broken whisper.

You’re the one who has to lean down, this time. Match the soft tilt of his head and find his lips with your own.

It starts as gentle and chaste as that second time. Hell, you’re just gonna call that your first kiss, fuck it, that one was made with, like, full consent. “Enthusiastic” consent. And if that thought don’t make part of you want to curl up and wither away.

His scent fills your lungs. His touch makes your lips tingle, spreads out over your whole face until the soft exhale through his nose brushes your cheeks and you almost fucking moan.

It ain’t that kissing itself is so…so…this. It’s that it’s him. That y’all are doing this. That you get to touch somebody and feel them and you ain’t never been this close to nobody and your bones rattle together with the effort of not flailing around.

You saw a video one time of a baby trying ice cream for the first time. Scoop was as big as the little dude’s head. He got one taste, went full on feral, and dragged that blob to his face.

It’s that same feeling that brings your fingers up to curl into the frills of his shirt. He’s gotta feel that, because he makes a whole ass sound against your lips and that damn near sets your hair on fire. Then his tongue flicks out, brushes carefully over your upper lip.

You don’t even think. You want. You open your mouth.

He must’a swigged water at some point. You catch hints of metal on his tongue, clinging to the inside of his mouth, but also, like, him. You’re tasting him.

This time, you cannot stop the tiny noise that escapes you.

He pulls back at that. His eyes look darker, and it takes you a second to realize that’s cause his pupils is blown right out. He looks like a cat that wants to bite you.

Instead, he comes back in. But not at your mouth. Plants a peck on the corner of your lips and then moves down. To the underside of your jaw. Places cool, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and you gasp and arch in his lap. You can’t help it.

Oh god, you ain’t never made yourself feel like that.

More, more. The selfish gremlin part of you crawls outta the cave in your head, chanting and shrieking.

“Astarion,” you say. You ain’t sure what should come after that.

He hums against your skin and his arms come up to wrap around you. Draw you against him. Your legs is splayed wide, with only his blanket to cover you. You’re wide open above that.

He kisses down, down. Traces his tongue along your collarbone and damn, you could cut glass with your nipples right now. He pauses at the neckline of your tunic. The one that dips low. Looks up at you, and the man is lost in the sauce.

“May I?” he says.

Rest on AO3 to avoid any ban hammer.

[verstappentime]

divorce verse for your wednesday <3 this is from after max & dan break up. (the rest of this verse is here) (the scene previous to this will get finished but this is what i have today <3) The first night Daniel’s gone, Max walks into a fucking wall trying to go to the bathroom.

It’s happened before, because his depth perception is awful and worse in the dark and worse sometimes than others, but usually he hits knee-first or something. Nope, just a wall right to the orbital bone. 

It’s not something Daniel could have saved him from, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. Daniel’s not there to be woken up by his cursing a blue streak and ask if he’s alright, to sit him down and put ice on it and make him feel less pathetic.

His head is throbbing, in a normal person kind of way. He’s going to have a massive goose egg. He finally gets to the light switch, very, very carefully, and tempts himself to go down the hall with the promise of crying about it afterward.

It’s easier, with the bedroom light illuminating the way. He makes it there and back okay. 

He needs to not call Daniel, but he’s groggy and worked up and he gets confused at night and– he’s just going to lose it if he can’t talk to someone. 

Daniel picks up on the first ring. He must still have Max excluded from do not disturb. Must be sleeping with the ringer on.

“I walked into the wall,” he says, before Daniel can get anything out. 

“What?” He can hear Daniel sitting up, sheets rustling. He should be scolding Max for calling in the middle of the night. He doesn’t. “Are you hurt?” 

“I hit my head. Or, like, my face. Both.” Max touches where the bruise is forming on his head. He kind of forgot what hurt that’s not coming from the inside feels like. He pokes it again. He’s lucky he hit on bone, probably, and that it wasn’t a corner and he’s not bleeding. “I don’t know,” he says, voice cracking. 

“Okay.” Daniel’s all calm. This kind of stuff never bothers him. Max wants him to be here. “You sound alright. You weren’t, like, running, right? Do you have a headache?”  “No. I think– I think I am okay.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, just to see how bad it hurts. “This is shit, Daniel.”

“We need to get you some of those lights you can turn on with your voice, yeah? I’ll look in the morning.” We. He’s going to have to stop that. Not right now.

“I can– I’ll do it.” 

“I’ll remind you, then. What do you want to do right now?” 

“I don’t know,” Max says again. “I don’t want to get up again.” He presses his knuckles to his teeth, something awful in his chest. “I feel shit that I called you already.” 

“I don’t care. It’s good you did. I was scared that you wouldn’t. Makes me feel better.” Daniel pauses. “Not that I’m like, glad you walked into a wall.” 

“It sounds very stupid when you say it out loud.” He knows it’s his fault, but he can’t help it: “What am I going to do? Just call you always?” 

“You can, baby.” Daniel never tells him no. Daniel let him leave because he never tells him no. “You have other people, though. They’ll be happy to answer. You can call your mum or Victoria or Charles. But also me, if you want to.” 

Max wants Daniel to tell him that’s unfair. But the idea of being cut off from the only person that really knows what it’s like for him makes him want to throw up. Charles would laugh at him for this one, even though he wouldn’t mean to. Max says, “I think I want to go back to sleep.” 

“Good idea. You want me to stay on?” 

“No. That will be very boring for you.” Max lays down, turning over on his side, his back to where Daniel should be. “Are you sleeping too?” 

“Yeah, Maxy, I’m going to.” 

“Okay. Then we will both go to sleep.” 

“Yeah,” Daniel says, all gentle. “I’m going to text you tomorrow, okay? It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me after that. But I’ll remind you about the lights and ask about your face.” 

“That’s fine.” He can’t know if he’ll remember, and he really does not want this to happen again, and– and now he knows for sure he’ll hear from Daniel tomorrow. 

There’s a beat where neither of them know what to say, but Daniel’s the bravest and he says, “I love you. Goodnight.” 

“I– Me too, Daniel.” He can’t lie. Not about that.

[visionsoffutile]

The queens curiosity Chapter 3:

The cafeteria at North Shore High was buzzing with the usual lunchtime chaos, but today, it felt quieter than usual to you. Maybe it was because you were sitting alone at a table near the window, absentmindedly picking at your salad. You weren’t used to eating alone, but the new school year had come with a shift in the usual groups and cliques, and you hadn’t quite found your place yet.

Your mind kept drifting back to yesterday’s encounter in gym class with Regina George. The way she walked up to you, flashing that signature smile that could mean anything—charm, malice, or something in between. The entire conversation had felt like a chess match, except you weren’t even sure if you were playing the same game as her. And the way her eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long—it sent a shiver down your spine.

You stabbed at your salad again, trying to brush the thoughts away. But the more you tried to forget, the more vivid the memory became. Her voice, her confidence—it was like Regina had imprinted herself in your mind, and no matter how much you wanted to stay out of her orbit, it was impossible to ignore her gravitational pull.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?"

You looked up, startled out of your thoughts. Standing in front of you was Gretchen Wieners, clutching a tray of food and offering a hesitant smile. You blinked in surprise, glancing around the room. The Plastics’ usual table was in full view, and there she was—Regina George herself, talking to Karen but occasionally casting a glance in your direction. Your stomach knotted, but you managed a nod.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Gretchen slid into the seat across from you, setting her tray down. You had no idea why she would leave the comfort of Regina’s side to sit with you of all people, but then again, this was North Shore High. Nothing ever made sense when Regina was involved.

"So, how’s the second day of school treating you?" Gretchen asked, taking a bite of her sandwich like this was a normal conversation.

"Fine, I guess," you replied cautiously. You tried not to glance over at Regina, but it was hard not to feel her presence from across the room. "Why are you sitting here, though?"

Gretchen looked a little taken aback by your bluntness, but she quickly recovered with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Oh, I just thought it’d be nice to get to know you better. You know, we don’t really talk much, and you’re new here, right? It can be tough finding where you fit in at North Shore."

The explanation sounded rehearsed, almost as if Gretchen had been sent on a mission. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was Regina pulling the strings, especially after yesterday’s encounter. Still, you decided to play along, at least for now.

"Yeah, I guess it can be," you said, trying to sound casual. "So, what do you want to know?"

Gretchen’s eyes flickered with interest. She was eager, clearly not expecting you to engage so openly. "Oh, just the usual stuff. You know, where you're from, what you like to do for fun… anything, really."

You raised an eyebrow. "Anything? That’s kind of vague."

Gretchen laughed nervously. "I mean, Regina—" she stopped herself, glancing down at her tray. "Well, we were just curious. You seem, um, interesting."

There it was. Regina George had sent Gretchen to find out more about you. But why? What did she want? You couldn’t shake the feeling that Regina’s sudden interest in you wasn’t just friendly curiosity. You could feel it in the way she looked at you yesterday, the way her presence had lingered long after the conversation ended.

You glanced over at Regina’s table again, catching her eyes for a split second. She was smiling at Karen, but there was something in the way her gaze briefly flickered toward you that sent a chill down your spine. Like you were part of some game she was playing, and you had no idea what the rules were.

"I’m not that interesting," you said, turning your attention back to Gretchen. "Just another junior trying to survive the school year, I guess."

Gretchen nodded, but you could tell she wasn’t satisfied with your answer. "Well, if you ever want to hang out, just let me know. The girls and I are always around."

You forced a smile, unsure of how to respond. The invitation felt more like an obligation than a genuine offer, but you couldn’t deny the curiosity bubbling inside you. What was Regina George up to? And more importantly, what did she want with you?

As Gretchen got up to leave, she flashed you one last smile. "See you around?"

"Yeah, see you," you replied, watching her walk back to the Plastics’ table.

Your appetite was gone now, replaced by a knot of unease in your stomach. Regina’s eyes met yours again, and this time, her smile was more subtle, almost calculating. You had a feeling this wasn’t the last time Regina George would cross your path, and something told you that whatever game she was playing, you were already a part of it—whether you wanted to be or not.

Previous

[anonymityisfunwriter]

There Is No Coming Back From This - Chapter 4

Characters: Stark!Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Summary: "It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix. There is no coming back from this."

"What do you mean you're leaving?"

"You're so dramatic," Steve groans, rolling his eyes at Bucky as he makes his way to the door, "I'll be back in an hour. I'm just getting a few things so we're ready to move when we have to." 

"Then take her with you!" Bucky insists. 

Your eyes volley back and forth between the two men, not bothering to pretend that you're not listening to them talk about you. 

"It'll be quicker if I go alone."

Though he did ask you if you were okay with being left alone with Bucky given your tense encounters. You shrugged Steve off and told him you didn't care. Steve only wished Bucky was as ambivalent. 

"Fine, then I'll go with you!"

"We can't leave her alone."

"Well, I don't babysit."

"You're not babysitting because she's not a baby."

Bucky quickly steps in front of the door, wedging himself in the doorframe. "I mean it, Steve! What the hell am I supposed to do with her?"

"I don't know, maybe, and I know this seems a little far fetched, talk to her," Steve incredulously suggests. "Have a normal, civil conversation."

Bucky snorts, "With a Stark?"

"With another person. Don't you remember what it's like to be 17?"

"No, actually, I don't."

"You two will be fine." Steve peels Bucky away from the doorframe, stepping through the door. "I'll be back in an hour. Kid, you have the burner phone I gave you?"

"Yeah." 

"Call me if you need anything."

"Got it."

"Steve, I mean it - " Bucky begins to object again. This time, he's met with the door snapping shut before him. He stares at the door for a long moment. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath, "I'm gonna kill him."

Bucky barely acknowledges your existence as he walks back to his kitchen. He plops himself down at the table, staring at the wall in front of him.

You take this as an opportunity to smooth things over with him. Sure, you didn't really do anything to him, but your father was still mostly responsible for him and Steve being fugitives. You take the only other seat at the table, plopping yourself right in his line of sight. "You know, Steve's told me all about you. He made you sound a lot nicer though."

Bucky barely offers a grunt in response. 

"But I'm thinking that treatment is reserved for me. Because I'm a Stark."

Bucky continues to ignore you, shifting his intense glare to the small kitchen window.

"I don't blame you for what happened to my grandparents. I know it wasn't your fault."

For the first time since you met him, his gaze shifts to you, "Your father does." 

"But I'm not my father."

"Sure you are," Bucky remarks. "Apples don't fall far from the tree."

Your brows pull in. You loved your father. You loved him as your father, as a scientist, as an innovator. And still, you weren't blind to his temper, to his constant need to strive for bigger and better. He wasn't a person that could leave well enough alone. You knew that firsthand. "What does that mean?"

"It means, that it's really only a matter of time before that Stark arrogance and cutthroat ambition kicks in. All you morals, ethics, everything that's right or wrong, it'll mean nothing to you. Consequences be damned. Just like your father."

You're not sure that you're the person that's supposed to be hearing this. These words weren't meant for you, but he unloads it on you anyway. "Don't talk about my father like you know him."

"Isn't that what he did to you? Consequences be damned. He wanted to make his perfect little daughter a perfect super soldier." 

You shake your head over and over, "That's not true."

"Sure it is." He raises an eyebrow. "He's willing to use every single person in his orbit as his little experiments. There's not a single person that he isn't willing to use and discard. That's why you're here and not with him."

You shakily exhale, your voice tinged with laughter, "Ouch."

"Truth stings, doesn't it?"

"I was dying," you state, staring at Bucky. His eyes widen slightly as his face drops. He looks over at you. You stare down at the table, tears starting to fall down your face. "Cancer. That's why he did what he did. He was trying to save my life."

He remains quiet, though this time it's not of his own volition. You've left him speechless. You wordlessly stand up, and take a seat back on the couch to wait for Steve. You lift your knees up, propping your head on them, and pull the hood of your sweater up. 

For the remainder of the hour that Steve is gone, Bucky sits in the uncomfortable silence. He can't quite think of another time he's felt like a bigger jackass. 

And considering he's the reason you're upset, he's pretty sure he has no right to console you or to try to smooth things over without Steve's presence. 

The moment he hears Steve's familiar steps, he bolts for the door, quickly stepping outside into the hall. Steve's eyes widen as Bucky blocks Steve's entrance into the apartment. 

"Okay, now, don't be mad."

"Oh God," Steve groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What did you do?"

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"What did you do?"

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you. I just want you to know that I didn't mean to. I just - I kinda lost sight of the fact that she's a kid. And that I wasn't talking to Tony Stark."

"What do you mean? Bucky, what the hell did you do?"

Bucky's mouth twists remorsefully, "I might've said some things... About her family. About how eventually she'll lost sight of all morals, ethics, and sense of right and wrong with that Stark ego. And I may have said something along the lines of her father discarding her and dumping her here with you."

Bucky cringes as he recounts each barbed word he threw at you. "But - but in my defense, I didn't think she'd cry - and - and I didn't know that she was dying. If you think about it, it's really on you for not telling me that. And that means this whole thing is sorta all your fault."

"My fault?" Steve squawks. "So she has to have cancer for you to be nice to - Wait, you made her cry?"

Bucky winces, "There may have been tears."

"I left you alone for an hour. One hour. How did this even happen?"

"Well, she just started talking. I was trying to ignore her, but she just kept talking. She went on and one, saying how you told her about me, that I was nice, and she didn't think I was to blame for her grandparents. I don't know, I just kinda snapped."

"So she, a 17 year old, a child, tried to be the bigger person and smooth things over with you, not that she really had to because she's not her father. And instead of being patient, or at the very least not yelling at her, you berated and insulted her and her family? That's what you're telling me?"

Bucky throws his arms up in exasperation, "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds really bad!"

"Because it is really bad!" 

"Okay, okay, I admit, I was being a jackass."

Steve rolls his eyes, "How did you leave it?" 

"I didn't get to say anything else. She just put her headphones in and sat on the couch with her hoodie up like an angsty teenager."

"She is an angsty teenager! She was on death's doorstep last week. This week, she's a fugitive with powers that she never wanted. I think that would make anyone a little angsty!" 

"Okay, okay! I already said I was being a jackass. Go talk to her or something. She's on the couch with her headphones in."

"Headphones?" 

"There those little things that you put in your ear - "

"I know what headphones are!"

"Okay," Bucky raises his hands in innocence. "No need to shout."

Steve grits his teeth, trying to remain calm in spite of the two children he was now looking after. "Just let me talk to her. Then, you can apologize."

"Fine," Bucky huffs like a petulant child. 

Steve walks through the door first. He spots you on the couch, "Kid?"

"I don't think she can hear you."

Steve holds up a finger, walking up to you and pulling on the loose headphone wire. He holds the wire up, showing Bucky that it's not connected to anything. He pulls down your head to find you staring up at him with a sly smirk on your face. 

Bucky sputters, "What the hell?"

"She doesn't cry," Steve explains. "And she didn't bring her phone with her. There's nothing to plug her headphones into. I'm surprised she even has them."

"Yes, I do cry," you retort. "I can cry."

"I can count on one hand how many times I've seen you genuinely cry. You can, however, cry on cue, but no, you don't cry." 

You narrow your eyes at Steve, "You don't know that."

"I've known you since you were five years old. That's how you used to get out of homeschooling."

A crocodile tear falls down your cheek, "But Uncle Steve.."

He points a disapproving finger at you, "Don't Uncle Steve me, that doesn't work on me anymore."

"Oh my God," Bucky exhales. "She's an actual psychopath."

"And you're an asshole!" you retort. 

"Language!" Steve remarks. He turns to Bucky, gesturing to you, "Now apologize."

"Me?" Bucky's eyes widen in disbelief. "She fake cried to make me feel bad."

"Do I need to remind you what you did?" Steve rhetorically asks. 

Bucky grumbles, "But, Steve..."

"There's two adults in this room, Bucky. Can you please act like one of them?"

"Don't bother," you object. "I head you from in here. You only feel bad because I had cancer. I don't need you to feel bad for me. I don't want to be here any more than you want me here."

"Okay, okay, can we all just calm down?"

Bucky scoffs, turning away from you, "Whatever, Princess."

"Whatever, Buchanan," you counter.

Bucky whirls around, glaring at you, "What did you just call me?"

"What's wrong, Buchanan?" you taunt. "You don't like the taste of your own medicine?"

"Don't call me that."

"Don't call me Princess. At least Buchanan is your name."

"I already told you to quit calling me that. No one calls me that. Who even -" He looks at Steve, who looks entirely fed up with you and Bucky. "Why? Why? Why would you tell her my full name?"

"In my defense, I was just telling her a story." Steve looks pointedly at you, "I certainly didn't think she'd use that against you."

"I have no regrets. He started it." 

Steve quietly mutters to himself watching as you and Bucky bicker back and forth. "How the hell did I end up here?" 

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist 'There Is No Coming Back From This' Chapter List

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[chevelleneech]

Chan and Felix’s dynamic is going to get sooooo interesting once the other members enlist. Because SKZ don’t have the “luxury” of enlisting one at a time really, since of the six who have to go: three are born in the same year, and it wouldn’t make sense for Minho and Changbin to go separately since they’re only a year apart, nor for I.N to all go last since he’s only a year younger than the three who have to go all at once. So it doesn’t make sense to stagger their enlistments starting either next year or 2026, all the way through to 2029. It makes the most sense for them to go by the end of 2025 if I’m being honest, because 1) BTS returns next year and that’s be there biggest competition.

They’re doing very very well and I don’t think that will change, but from a business standpoint, I’d want to give the most anticipated group comeback breathing room. I wouldn’t want to put my current moneymakers in the ring, so that I can also watch and see where their competition sinks or soars in terms of their big return. That way, when it’s time for me to bring my group back, I’ll know what key points to hit or sidestep. It will also help that Chan and Felix do not have to enlist, so encouraging the others to go sooner than later means using their current hype and whatever more they gain in 2025, to propel Chanlix into the western market. I’d try to get them more brand deals, collabs, film/tv roles, etc.

Then 2) it’ll get the enlistment out the way before anyone in the group hits 30. They’re a fairly young group, and while Chan will be turning 30 the year they come back, the others will be 29-26. So they’ll mean they get to do a 30th birthday bash AND a welcome back, which is also really goo business.

Anyway, I got lost in my original point, lol. I think it’s going to be super interesting to see how Chan and Felix react regardless of when the others enlist, because I can’t imagine they’d go radio silent. They can’t, if they want to keep SKZ at the top of conversations, the same way BTS filmed a shitload of advance content and pre-recorded albums to be released while away. SKZ can and likely will do that too, they have a much better opportunity to promote in person, but they won’t be able to actually perform 8-piece songs. So I’m curious if we’ll get them doing a subunit album, and if so… what will that look like? Because their chemistry is actually insane, and they’ll have to figure out a way to Chanlix it up. Which is kind of impossible for them, lol.

So yeah, I’m truly very intrigued. Because the two of them really don’t know how to act normal about each other. And I’m not saying they are without a doubt dating, because they really do confound me on a daily basis, but I do genuinely think there is a vibe between them that they’re both well aware of, as is everyone else. The only way to avoid their vibe becoming significantly more obvious is by staggering enlistments or completely removing them from each others orbit during a full six enlistment, but I don’t see how either option benefits the group.

Pulling Chan and Felix apart for 18 months minimum would be ridiculous, because fate literally put them together, lol. Their home, work, and family lives overlap in both Seoul and Sydney, so what would be the excuse? For a year and a half, anyway? Six months? Sure, they’ve busy doing separate things in separate countries and their schedules overlapped whenever they were in the same country. Anything longer than that would be a serious reach, because we know for a fact how close they are. They’ve said not. Other members have said, so even if you narrow the group number down to three or four others they have to “share” each other with, it will still drastically change their dynamic.

I don’t know. I’m talking a lot here about a hypothetical scenario at the moment, but I think it’s I because I’m thinking of how Jimin and Jungkook’s enlistment went. They applied for and were chosen for the buddy system, but they also filmed a travel series to spend time together before leaving, and it showed a side of them that surprised me. Yes, I ship them and think they have something going on, but they were so comfortable with each other. So I guess I’m scared almost, if I’m being honest. Because again, I didn’t anticipate any of what was seen in Are You Sure? (Aside from their trip to Jeju), and walked away from it being like, “Damn. They really are comfortable-comfortable with each other.” Completely at peace just existing around one another, and I feel like that’s what we’ll see from Chan and Felix.

Because we see a lot of that ease and peace on Chan’s face in particular when he’s talking about Felix or simply looking at him exist. It’s almost overwhelming already the way you can feel his love and admiration, same from Felix. He’s more of a verbal guy than a stop and stare, but still. They have six other members to use to deflect such a blinding light, that I am intrigued, scared, and nervous about how their dynamic will come across when it’s just them. Traveling, working, or talking about each other without a buffer.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I restart an argument with a friend?

🌊⚓ <- so I can search for it.

So, a while ago, a friend was over and we talked. She is from South Germany while I am from North Germany, where we are both living (this'll be important in a sec).

I don't really remember why we were talking about the topic, but we started talking about regional dialects and sayings and then she called Low German* a dialect. Which tldr: big no-no. But I don't think she was being malicious, she just didn't know about the topic at all.

So naturally I explained: "You absolutely cannot call Low German a dialect to peoples faces around here. People will take offense to it. I don't really, because I consider the difference between dialect and language is arbitrary to begin with. But you will provoke incredibly unkind reactions from other people."

Her response was "Yeah but like. Doesn't everyone think their own dialect should be a language."

And... Idk why that one hurt but it did. It just felt incredibly dismissive. And I didn't really know how to respond other than "but this is the one case where it is true" which felt weird so I just. Didn't. We kinda moved on to other topics. But in hindsight, I really wish I hadn't?

Because I wish I had explained it in depth to her so she understands why what she said is considered unacceptable. But also for her own sake, because she will piss people off if she says the same thing to other people. And honestly for my sake so I can make peace with the conversation.

So I'm considering either finding a way to restart the argument/ conversation when we are together or go the cowardly route and send her a couple screenshots explaining the topic. But I also feel like restarting a fight we never really had and really doesn't matter is kind of a dick move.

Additionally I tend to be a person that corrects people when they are wrong and starts discussion way too much. Because in my family academic debates are a love language.** So I tend to reaaaaaally overestimate the amount of debating/ arguing people are comfortable with. They tend to perceive me as being upset with them while I am just having fun hashing out a topic from different angles.

So Tumblr. WIBTA?

Footnotes

* Low German is the regional language of North Germany. The definition of North Germany is actually pretty much "wherever they are speaking Low German". There is some controversy if Low German is a dialect or a language. Which like... People often describe it as closer to Dutch and English than Standard German, it's a recognised language in every state it is spoken in, it is recognized as a regional language in the fucking European Union WHY is it still controversial.

It is also very much an endangered language because in the past decades especially it has been looked down on as being "lower class". No that's not where the name comes from, low german is spoken where the terrain is flat/ low and high/ upper german is spoken where the mountains are. This attitude towards Low German is shifting a lot recently but it is entirely possible it's too late to prevent it from dying out.

** I felt like this part needed some clarification too. I can't count how many dinners in my childhood were spent eating while getting into the meat of whatever topic caught our attention. Politics or science or more spiritual stuff. Ask questions about things we were wondering about. Absolutely tear into each other when we had opposing positions, but concede when we were convinced. Oftentimes I'd get up to grab pen and paper, or demonstrate orbital dynamics with the jam container, a bowl and my plate, or use the butter as an impromptu drawing board.

But that doesn't mean we were fighting in the normal sense even if someone got upset occasionally. It was really just communicating with one another. It was connecting. Exercising our debate skills. Play-fighting but make it academia. It was genuinely fun to us and still is. An alternative outlet for sibling rivalry. There is no need to fight over the TV remote when you can just reason it out together.

So yeah. That's how academic debates can be a love language (and simultaneously absolutely destroy your conception of what is considered arguing).

[strangequarked]

On Throwing One's Self Forward

this ramble was prompted by Time to Orbit: Unknown's ending, so yeah spoilers for that.

I enjoy, probably a more-than-normal amount, the feeling of acceleration. Breaking into a sprint, screaming down a hill on a bike, flooring the gas pedal, the roar of take-off thrust on a jet, I find all those not only exhilarating but comforting. Thus, I can't help but wonder what it must feel like to be in the Courageous, to be the Courageous as it engages its engines, screaming across the void to chase the stars. The beauty of it all...

and in general, I loved TTOU's ending. A story that was equal parts grim and joyful ends on an optimistic note and a very particular one at that. The Javelin Program was billed as a mission of hopeful exploration, of venturing into the unknown to discover what lies there, and the crew of the Courageous had finally made it come true. No more murders, no secret Antarctican project, no half-mad experimental AI. We saw the worst of humanity, but we also saw the best. Aspen's resilience, muscling through the void of space all on their own. Dinesh and Tal sticking a failing starship back together. The way everyone on the crew protected each other. Ultimately, we see that we are indeed capable of surmounting dire odds and that is cause for optimism all by itself. Even when everything is falling apart, it can yet be saved. What should have been can still be.

I am perhaps a hopeless optimist but what we see in ttou is my hope for the actual future. I dream of humanity working together to go further than ever before, of an Earth that is more vibrant than ever, of a well-taken-care-of people, of a deeper and broader knowledge of the universe. It is highly unlikely I will live to see our own Javelins set out across the stars, but I hope someone aboard one of them feels the same comfort in acceleration I do.

[fantomette22]

Alright so before the Sonic 3 movie release I wanted to share a few thoughts and hypothesis/ theory following my last post about it.

It's really smt just for me (and maybe 2-3 mutuals) to put my thoughts and be like : hey I was right/wrong on that detail! for later on. (I will also re explain a few things for well my friends who would like to read this but aren't familiars with a few things)

And just as I write this NEW CLIP shows up! And this is great! That's so good omg the details... oh boy idk how I am going to survive this movie XD

And I mean I'm a very calm person. Always make no sound in the theatre but I think I will really have to make an effort to restrain myself from screaming when I will watch this movie

Also dunno when I could see it 💀 Like it is releasing the 20th in Canada! yeah but of course it's a day I am working from 8am to 8pm 💀 ahhhhhh for 5 consecutive days!!! And then it's Christmas and I have family over whom came from the other side of the Atlantic to see me so hm I will see when I can go see it...

I kinda forgot many things I wanted to talk about since the 2nd trailer and the Run it clip but I just wanna share 1-2 theories concerning Maria Robtonik in the movie and how they're gonna adapt her illness. Plus a few other things.

It's just some hypothesis I made up but hm just in case if I got it accidentally right or very close. I don't wanna spoil the surprise for anyone so yeah be careful if you wanna read my crazy ideas below.

Alright so we can hypothesis that compared to the game universe, Project Shadow was actually made on Earth! That Gerald, Maria and everyone on the project were on earth and not in space. (Maybe they had a few experiments in space but not everything was in orbit). Also look at the Ark/eclipse canon, in the trailer it's way smaller compared to the one in the game. But I mean realistically you can't have an orbital space station of a few kilometres of diameters in the 60s 😭 Like Sputnik, (first articial satellite) was sent in 1957, Margarine went in space in 1961! And Apollo XI was in 1969! Even currently space stations could never be thing big XD. But smt that is about 200m of diameter? Hmm... well a bit more likely. (In the game universe it work! In ours?! Hm...)

Seriously the one in the game is so huge.

Compared to well baby realistic Ark. That seems as deadly.

So now like we see in the trailers Eggman Sonic & co seems to go to some kind of bunker/base/ research facility to find Shadow or gather clues about him. And that's where our dear Ivo meet his Grandpa too.

So clearly this is on Earth, lost in the mountains and it seems were Project Shadow was made and all. Where Gerald, Maria and Shadow used to live.

Also hey the snowy mountains fit...

(I will come back to those pics later too. I have no idea where it is on the globe as well. I wanna say Europe XD but could be the usa. Could be anywhere.) (Clean fresh air of the mountain hm? Altitude help to have more blood cells hm..)

So if they are on Earth they need to adapt Maria and her condition. In the game she has NIDS (Neuro-Immune Deficiency Syndrome), and so we learn in Shadow Generations by being in Space, with a lower articial gravity it helps her condition. On earth she would be bed ridden all the time. Now most days she's ok but some days she need to catch her breath more or she can't walk or she's hurting, she have to be in bed and she can barely see or think! And well she's thankful for Shadow to be so patient with her when it happened. And one of her biggest wish is to be able to go to Earth and live a normal life, and enjoy everything it has to offer.

So in the movies, if she's on earth, I feel it still needs to be similar and a bit different too. I suppose the condition she have here must unable her to live normally in society/ outside.

First I still think our poor girl should still have NIDS too. Let her cumulate extra rare genetic disease. I'm sorry but that's still important that she can't run around with energy everyday, where would be the drama and the anxiety to find a cure quickly.

Now I can think of 2 other potential real world things (if they're just not making up a condition or well she's moderately sick but she's orphan and she just have her grandpa so she stays lock in a secret military facility..ok ).

Very weak immune system. So she cannot live in society and risking catching something. But idk there's probably hundred of people working where they were I think and maybe those people don't live in the mountain full time?

Xeroderma pigmentosum/ children of the moon condition (be ready for some genetic lesson and rambling)

Ok hear me out. I might be crazy but I think is this plausible actually. But first what is you ask? Well to put it very very simply, (I'm really not an expert on it I will try to summary as best as I can) it's an hereditary disease, a genetic disorder, that make your skin and eyes extremely sensible to UV light and the sun. 1/1 million people have it in Europe. It's very rare but there's no cure for it. Even if treatment have progress a lot and people can live more than 30 years, many people still die very young of it.

Basically when your dna got it by too much uv it break. But DNA is code well and most of the time it repair all by itself! Sometimes too much mutations can't be fix and either the cell is destroyed or cancer happened. In the case of xeroderma pigmentosum, the gene responsible of fixing the dna / so protect us from the uv just doesn't work. You might be familiar with picture of children in suits that look like cosmonaut to protect them from the UV well this is it.

We have 46 chromosomes, in 23 pairs that made or DNA. Half are from our father and the other half our mother. In one pair of chromosome we have this particular gene that code for "fixing the dna from UVs". So normally we have 2 versions of this who work. One on each chromosome of the pair. Sometimes it happened that only one gene on one chromosome work and the other actually don't work. It's fine you still have a version who work to do it's job in each cells of your body. (Why? well could be passed done, could be a mutation, an error while creating the reproductive cell who knows.) The problem is... What happen when two people, have each one gene who work but the other who doesn't work and they have children. Well this happen :

There's a chance someone got both wrong gene. Gene that won't work properly and will cause serious problems.

It's very similar to the way many genetic disorder work, it's the same for mucoviscidose/ pulmonary fibrosis for people who know about it. it's way more frequent too it's 1/3000. Now people can live more than 40y old, have normal life, children and all but there's still many places in the world where children who don't have access to treatment died young and decades ago many children died of it very young. My family have been personally touch by it so it's a subject that means a lot to me.

Now to come back to Sonic movie! And Maria, well this condition could explain why she can't go outside (especially during the day) or have a "normal" life in society. But I'm still a bit conflicted 🤔 I mean I don't know how it work in the 60s-70s but today even with this condition people live in society and yes they need tons of adaptation but they live kind of commonly. So idk it could still be mixt with other things too? Idk it's really just one hypothesis and speculation.

Last thing people notice on the few images of Maria we have, she have a lil bag and maybe is has something to do with her condition! Idk she could have meds of a syringe, an inhalator idk something for Shadow maybe? She could have everything in it really XD but yes I cannot wait to see them portrayed on the big screen 🥺 MAKE ME CRY please

---

Now why is Gerald still alive! Well before the second trailer drop I legit thought maybe he used something like the solaris prototype to travel to the future?! Like in the 06 game Eggman sent Sonic, Tails in Knuckles to the future via this machine and using the chaos emerald to power it. So I thought maybe Shadow power it and Gerald disappear 50y ago and now Shadow is getting him back. But now it seems unlikely? I thought of clones, android idk but nowit seems he's just very old and in good health at like 100y+ or something 😭 that's a bit sus but possible. And do you imagine they did found the cure for Maria and Gerald use it himself too and that's why he's still mostly ok today? OMG I SWEAR- I swear... if they did found a cure for Maria. Like it work and all. And they used it and she was getting better and SHE DIED LIKE 2 WEEKS LATER I SWEAR TO GOD!!!!!ybixsbhjksqcbhjkqcsbhjkqcsbjl hm

------

Ok now you see those shots from the last trailer/ music clip. Clearly either the trailer or clip images ones are actually in mirror compared to how those shot will be in the movie. (or they just switches place at some point XD)

Trailer:

Jelly Roll song :

So I made this V to have both the trailer and music clip segments to match together. There's two possibilities of course. Which one will it be? We'll know soon

Possibility 1, trailer version is correct :

Or Possibility 2, music clip is correct :

Or the scene is actually no that short and they switch place XD

Also many have been wondering if this is actually real or not. Is Shadow dreaming/day dreaming of what could have been like in Dark Beginning ; the 2 of them daydreaming or did it actually happen??

And I can' be sure but.... idk I feel it's real, I feel it happen. At least, I hope. There's just so adorable here I can't-

And like some notice she does indeed have two little bracelets at her wrist here. One seems to have a blue cord and one is made of lil pearls. red, black, white, blue ones? I swear if Shadow made it for her 🥹 😭

----

Also I do have another clue pointing to one of those theories But hm... I can't really talk about it... hm maybe after the movie release and everyone watch it. Or in dm lol. I'm not taking the risk. But maybe it have absolutely no link with what I present earlier. In all case it will be great I'm sure.

[carionto]

Geronimo!

Space suits have come a long way - near 1 to 1 articulation and haptic feedback, intuitive zero-g booster based movement, nano-clamps for spiderman-like grip in low/no gravity, and of course dozens of micro layers of protection against all know space radiation and other hazards. Plus a centimeter thick composite armor against sentient threats, with a "cocoon" mode to fully cover all joints and other normally more exposed parts, that renders the Human inside near impervious to most small arms, and even some heavier impacts.

To fully test the limits of protection you don't actually need to have a person inside, just plenty of sensors and a good understanding Human physiology and anatomy. The military, of course, does things a bit differently, as their suits are even tougher. They do have this half-half mode where you are mostly armor, but can still move, but more like the Terminator. Given it also boasts a powered exoskeleton between the armor and hazardous protection layers, soldiers can wield weapons other militaries typically mount on vehicles, so the metaphor is almost just a straight factual comparison.

Some, however, are still not satisfied, and are always seeking to extend the durability of their suits to beyond the extremes.

____________________________

Hilda Lavre was standing on the edge of the ship in low orbit. One hand gripping an outer handle while engaged in final diagnostics.

"Alright, Hilda, everything looks green on our end, how 'bout you?"

"Same green green. I'm good."

"Whenever you're ready then. There's some clouds in the way of the predicted path, might slow you down a bit. Wanna wait?"

"Nah, nah. I'll wing it."

After a seconds pause, Hilda let go of the handle and gently kicked off the side of the ship. She was now on a direct collision course with the Atlantic Ocean.

.

.

.

(Thermals should start going up soon. I'm gonna turn on the external mic just a tad. There's just something about how the heat sounds scraping against the metal.

Oh, there it goes. Yellow, slowly getting to orange. Good.

Yea, that's a nice screech - burn that paint!

Halfway to red, altitude check. Already this close? Guess it'll be just shy of 80% tolerance.

Hehehehe, that means we can go for a bit faster next time. Cool.

Eh... wind without the heat just doesn't sound right, I'll turn it down to just barely audible. Something to keep me company.

Aaaand three.

Two.

One.)

SPLASH

.

.

.

(It's dark. But I guess it was dark before...

before what though?

Well, that's okay.

This feels like a new kind of dark though.

There's the dark when you're alone in your room at night, all the lights are out.

Another kind is when you decide to get inside your brothers closet to scare him when he comes back from the kitchen. That's a fun kind of dark. (it's getting cold)

There's also the dark of being in an underground bunker during a storm. Then the power gets cut and all the exits are sealed. That's a... lonely kind of dark.

One time I was wandering the woods, and before I knew it, it was the middle of a moonless night, overcast too. Hiding out in an abandoned shed, without even the wind or animal sounds to let you know anything is out there. I didn't like that kind of dark at all. (It's really cold)

This dark though... I dunno. It's like I'm hiding out in my own closet. My shoulder is up against my winter jacket, feet are grazing those old sandals I swore to throw out two summers ago. But also, it's not my room. Or even my house. Why am I in my closet? How did it get here? Where even is here?

I feel sleepy.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Hey, hey! Hilda! Wake up!"

*grunting* "Ugh... shut, shut up Barry..."

"Gods, don't freak us out like that. You okay?"

"Depends. How high did it go go?"

*laughter* "Okay, [She's fine everyone] yeah, you're fine. 87 meters, new record."

"Hmm, I was aiming to to break 90."

"Well, those clouds nudged you a little off, you hit it at a 83 degree angle. Still, those other readings are nice. I'm pretty sure we can do a boosted fall next time."

"Yeah, I I think so too. I feel a little little cold, did something break on hit hit?"

"Not break, but the impact did jolt the subsystems a bit. Activated one of the sedative shots. I manually made your suit give you a wake up shot right as I noticed. You should be feeling the effects right about now."

"Mmhhmmm, oh yea. I'm feeling the kick kick now. We need to improve the kinetic tic dampeners. No good if if it puts you to sleep upon any hard enough nough impact."

"Yup. We're suspending any other jumps for the week until we get that fixed and implement some minor tweaks based on your jump once we analyze the telemetry further.

Okay, everyone! Good job today! Let's meet up next weekend and test these bad boys out. Let's aim for a 100 meter splash by the end of the year!"

*cheers and yeahs as Barry opens a mini fridge and everyone cracks open a cold one*

[tennessoui]

Jesus shitting christ, I just finished ch 6 of weeding out our wildfires, and how is it that every time I think things cannot possibly get any more heartwrenching, there come lines like 'that love that surpasses mother and wife and freedom itself—it is not enough' holy fuck. YOUR WRITING IS SO. FUCKING. GOOD. I am crawling out of my own skin for Anakin's sake, holy shit. (God, he really will never be normal about that old man. AND I LOVE IT.)

Also I just. I read the fic last night and hours later I'm still orbiting around this line: Yeah, alright, swee—yeah, okay, Obi-Wan

THE ABORTED TENDERNESS. THE WAY MY HEART SKIPPED A BEAT AS ANAKIN CUT HIMSELF OFF. GOD. HELP. The way Anakin uses endearments (in your fic in general, and in this line specifically) makes me FERAL. I don't - i can't even describe why or how, just that it's so tastydelicious for my brain and every time it happens I get the very real urge to start chewing on concrete.

ALL OF THIS to say, holy fucking shit, thank you so much for sharing your writing! Your stories are incredible and it is such a joy to read them (including when I'm drowning in my own tears).

hello im so sorry for answering this ask late (aka after i posted chapter 7) BUT thank you so much for this i loved reading this ask (and i did multiple times) and it made me want to write chapter 8 that much faster

thank you for noticing all these things and loving them!! to talk only about one, yes!! anakin almost called obi-wan sweetheart and then i hope no one recovered

BECAUSE he choked on it!! and because he thinks (in chapter 6) that he can never truly label obi-wan as anything but 'master ' and 'obi-wan' so how can he possible say sweetheart??

i obviously love anakin calling obi-wan any number of pet names but i don't think we've spent enough time thinking about anakin feeling as if the ONLY pet name/nickname he is allowed to give to obi-wan is 'master'. it's like. either master or obi-wan? nah. we can do better.

like the consolidation of everything he wants to call obi-wan down to only his name or his title or some half-bitten off endearment??? i could write essays about that i think

[deedah]

I just noticed a huge increase in my weight! I'm staring to get chubby again! (I'm trying to go back to my normal body weight-) soo I wanted to ask.... Thad x chubby Roxy fic?

(I'm sorry for asking a bunch of stuff, you just make me happy! And umm yeah again I'm sorry for asking so many things...)

[ FnFcLOAD//: Thad_POV ]

⚠️⚠️Warnings⚠️⚠️

 - a little about chubby-ness and how the body looks

CREDIT - Roxy belongs to @roxy4life

Miracle belongs to @roxy4life

Thad belongs to Glitch Prod. / Murder Drones

Design for the cannon MD characters belongs to tsukyiio for the ‘Murder Drones Unresolved’ Comic

Thad put the last dish in the cabinet as he felt a pulling on his pants. He looked down to see his little baby looking up at him. 

“There you are Miracle,” Thad said as he picked his kid up. Miracle had three eye colors, somehow.. he got Thads green eyes on his left eye, and then a blue to pale yellow gradient on his right eye. Thad didn't know how that happened, but Roxy said her code might be messed up due to the Solver being in her.

Then it hit Thad.

“Hey, Miracle,” he asked as the toddler looked at him. “Where’s your mom?”

Miracle looked at him with zoned out eyes, until the kid finally said, “Ba!”

Thad looked at Miracle for a while trying to think as he got lost in thought. 

He then felt the weight of his kid be lifted off his hands.

He looked back to see Miracle float in the air by the foot as a purple Solver was wrapped around his ankle.

Thad looked around their house to see even more stuff floating.

“Oh no..” he mumbled as he grabbed Miracles hand as he giggled endlessly and started to head to their room.

Thad knocked on the door as he heard a voice say “come in” quietly.

Roxy looked up from where she had her head in between her knees as they were up to her chest.

“Oh, Thad.. um.. Sorry about this..” she mumbled as she curled up more.

“You're making your kid float.. again.” Thad said as he giggled a bit when Miracle started to spin in the air.

“Here.” Thad pushed Miracle over to where he was above Roxy. Thad walked over to their closet and grabbed old fursuit cat paws.

He walked over to Roxy and put the cat paws on her hands. Everything stopped floating and the AS symbol went off her screen. Miracle fell from above Roxy as she caught her kid with her cat paws. 

“More more!!” Miracle yelled as he yawned as his eyes started to flutter.

“Heh, maybe tomorrow, though F is still not allowed to throw you high like she did a couple of days ago..” she told Miracle as she stared off in the distance, “you almost went into orbit..”

“Ha!” The toddler made a noise as he yawned again and slept like a little cat in Roxy’s arms.

Roxy slowly put him on her pillow and put him to bed as he snored quietly.

Thad looked at Roxy as she shuffled the cat paws off her slowly.

“There’s still something bothering you..” he said quietly.

“Hmh..” she laughed without opening her mouth.

“You know me well..” she said as she pulled out her mothers scrubs away from her stomach.

“I’ve.. um..” she started softly. Thad began to rub her back and try to calm her down.

“I’ve been gaining weight since Miracle was born..” They looked at the sleeping toddler drone.

“I don’t know.. I’ve just not been feeling..” She looked for words in her mind. “My teenage self when we get saved I guess..”

“Oh Roxy..” Thad said as he put her in a soft headlock and began to dig in her head.

Roxy started to laugh.

“You know you don’t have to live up to your teenage standards!” Thad explained as Roxy laughed harder. “You’ve had a fricken kid! Your body’s gonna change, girl.” Thad stopped and let Roxy get herself back together.

She looked at Thad once her giggles stopped.

Then her eyes hollowed and widened, “Was I too loud?” She said pretty quietly as she whipped around to see her boy still fast asleep, just in a new position.

She sighed as both Thad and Roxy looked each other in the eyes.

He loved her, and she knew that.. hopefully..

After a moment of silence, Thad broke it by asking, “Hey! Why not do your favorite thing!” He asked as he took her hand.

She giggled, “and what’s that, Mr, Know-It-All?” She asked in a sassy tone.

He started to laugh as he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to lay down with Miracle landing in the middle.

“Snuggles~!” He said in a sing-songy voice.

Miracle flew in the air from both sides of the bed going down and pushing him up. He then splattered back in the middle of the adult drones, and somehow still fast asleep.

“Dude..” Thad said as they both looked at their kid, “this kid can sleep through the world ending probably!” He stated.

“Yet,” Roxy started looking at Thad, “can’t sleep when he senses I’m not in the room.. somehow..”

“You think he got your Solver?” Thad asks his wife.

Oh I pray to god he doesn't.. if he does then Cyn will be dealing with him from Uzi’s tail like Uzi’s baby..” Roxy declared. Roxy has had trouble dealing with her solver for a while. Before she and her crew got saved by N and Uzi, Cyn tried to control her during a battle against the eldritch horror she is, but Roxy somehow used Cyn’s NULL against her and threw it at her, which caused her to fall off her feet, shockingly. But after they got saved but before Miracle was born, she used it a lot after she learned that Cyn was in Uzi’s body and couldn’t do anything. But after Cyn began to control Uzi’s body when she sleeps sometimes, she can take over her hosts. So Roxy has been pretty careful to not use it a lot, again.

“Let’s not think about that now, ok?” Thad tells Roxy, “let’s just go to sleep and know that everything’s going to be alright..” he leans over Miracle and kisses her on her forehead.

“Heh.. Goodnight Thad..”

Goodnight Roxy.. sweet dreams.. love…”

[quindread]

Constanstine starts acting sober on important missions/meetings for the JLD; he has a sanity-potion dealer

Zatanna reports this odd behavior to Batman, they interrogate him when his veins are swamped with alcohol.

C: … I-I know what yer doin’ [hiccups]

Z: We care for your well-being. You have bouts of sobriety that you seem to have control over.

B: Are you on something new?

C: M’yeah… is called a pwoz—piss—poise! Poise potion, yeah das it!

B: And who makes this “Poise” potion?

C: My dealah, my busniz. G’way! [stumbles out the door]

Z: … That went as well as expected.

Sober Constantine is actually more reasonable. Batman catches him after a meeting.

B: [observes his brushed hair and very high-quality, new trench coat] You’re sober… Congratulations?

C: Uhuh. Did you need something? I have some business elsewhere.

B: With your dealer?

C: [affronted] Wha—Who in their right bloody mind would dare call Celest that?

B: You did.

C: ….

B: Who’s Celest?

C: Oh, fuck me!

Constantine gives him an address - it’s in Milan, Lombardy (Region of Italy). He specifically instructs him to come as a civ along with Red Hood and Robin with the threat that he will erase their memories if they so much as go into detective mode.

Bruce Wayne and his two wayward children enters the teahouse and is led by the hostess to a private room. They are served with tea and light snacks that they know even Alfred would more than approve of.

A door opens - they didn’t even know it was one with the way the molding blends into each other seamlessly. And out came one of the most enchanting woman Bruce has ever seen. He’s seen his fair share of attractive females but he has never been star-struck like he should be - as if he were back to his pre-pubescent days.

M: Constantine said you’d be here.

B: [realizes that this person was Constantine’s dealer and was 100% magic] You’re his dealer?

*Jason and Damian who saw the look on their dad’s face snicker at his opening line*

M: [raises and elegant eyebrow at Bruce] And you must be his work associates?

J: Something like that, lady. I’m Jason, kid’s Damian, and the one who can’t stop staring at you is our Dad, Bruce.

*Bruce grumbles and Marinette smirks*

M: I’m Marinette. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

D: [gestures at Bruce] Pleasure is all his, Marinette.

B: [red at the ears] Their Grandfather thought them better, I swear.

M: Mhmm. I guess he didn’t teach them how to not die then?

The guys: ….

Jason gets a more potent version of the potion Constantine consumes - it’s a prescription that he has to come for every month. Damian gets a charm; ear cuffs because he does whatever her wants, a spontaneous orbital piercing is nothing. And Bruce gets Mari’s number.

(Tim also gets forwarded in his fave fashion label’s waitlist from the near thousands to the fourteenth - his first consultation coincides with Jason’s next appointment.)

AN: Some posts/fics call Mari Celestial Guardian. Idk where and when that happened - I have abandoned canon a long time ago. These are all pulled from my days in the maribat blackhole (still kinda stuck there). I basically pulled this out of my archives so they at least get the chance to see the daylight.

Addressing Brucinette: I have a whole re-written MLB plot in my archives where everything is more brutal and the miraculous aren’t actual pieces of accessories. Like there’s an initiation to the order and stuff like that. I normally don’t enjoy aging up characters in crossovers but Brucinette just works. I have a secretary AU somewhere (it’s tragic and I’m considering scrapping it if I find it). And I also have deep-rooted issues that wants me to write Good!Dad Bruce who has Mari breathing down his neck when he so much as raises his voice at his children (Muminette/Mominette is another breed scary). And those tropes where Mari sees right through Brucie? Has a second sense for the when the batkids are in/causes trouble? Love those. I WILL FIGHT FOR THIS SHIP. (Jk people are free to dislike this. I get it.)

[sharpth1ng]

As someone who has TRIED to write longfic for a while, I find outlining and sticking to it so fucking hard?! Like I never know what I'm doing at all. And I wanted to ask how do you do it??? Like what's your process if you have one or just whatever tips you have, because I feel like the pacing and plot/character evolution in your fics is so good? Idek dude I'm desperate this is so hard 😭😭 but I really wanna do it so. Help please

Honestly this is the first long fic I’ve managed to write, it’s something I’ve struggled with a lot as well. I guess I have a couple tips, but it’s by no means expert advice. It’s also possible some of this is too basic, idk, but I’ll do my best to be helpful.

Outlining and thinking into the future is really important but I’d actually recommend you give yourself a little flexibility to change things as well. I like to have my end point set- that means I know how characters start out and how they change through the course of the fic. After that I basically just have to get from point A to point B by figuring out what events happen to change the characters over the course of the plot.

In Debaser the start point is a closeted, self-denying Billy and a Stu that’s not yet completely sure of his place in Billy’s orbit. At the end we have a Billy who is still closeted but admits his sexuality to himself and has fallen in love with Stu, and we have an equally but more openly in love Stu who is also significantly more confident (if also severely injured).

It helps to have a solid midpoint as well, this is basic plot structure stuff. You need the characters to face a challenge and overcome it, and for Debaser this is Maureen’s death. It’s their first murder but it also marks the beginning of a significant change in their relationship. Before Maureen their behaviour has been almost justifiably kinky to Billy. He can tell himself that he’s only getting off on causing Stu pain, but kissing him crosses a line, and then there’s everything that happens at Christmas and it just continues from there.

As I’m writing this stuff I try to be mindful that I’m creating a sense of escalation- the characters are making progress or regressing, but either of way the stakes are getting higher. Scream lends itself well to that, so I got lucky.

It also helps that I’m sort writing a book slasher, at least later in the fic. It means I can make use of those tropes, so I have something to lean on. I’d recommend figuring out some tropes that you like from the genre you’re working in, and put your own spin on them or find a way to subvert them.

I often work through this kind of planning with more of a visual map, then this eventually gets turned into bullet point summaries of each chapter. When I actually go to write the chapter a lot of the time I realize some of those planned plot points don’t quite work or don’t feel in character, and in those cases I often change those details. If it works better for the story I’m telling then it’s good to go off-script a little. There are usually some major events that I won’t change, but most things are fair game.

Finally, I’d recommend writing ahead. It’s really benefited me to know what’s happening in the next few chapters before I edit for publishing. That way I can add in or change any details that no longer work with what’s coming up in the future.

I hope some of this makes sense (and is helpful) but like you’re right, it is hard. It’s such a scary process honestly and that’s part of why Wave of Mutilation is taking me so much time. But yeah I think it’s normal for it to feel kind of awful to do this kind of thing. Truly the only thing i hate more than writing is not writing.

I wish you the fucking best with whatever you’re working on!