#but what's DEFINITELY rude is demanding that they come back and answer my question

[dravidious]

Thought: Only things that you say/do to a person can be rude. If you aren't saying/doing something to a person, then you shouldn't be considered rude.

For example, it's polite to make eye contact during a conversation. It's a nice way of showing that you're listening when they're speaking and paying attention to their body language/expressions/reactions, and when there's multiple people it helps communicate who you're speaking to. But it's not rude to refuse eye contact. How can it be? You're literally doing nothing. It's a lack of politeness, and it's not ideal, but that shouldn't be considered rude. You don't owe people your eyes.

What's rude is acting like other people owe you the exact style of social interaction that you want and demanding that they act a certain way.

[demon-country]

This scene is so interesting to me for a number of reasons, but I want to talk about the eggs and how he said he finds them "off-putting". Now, Stolas is an owl, and like most birds of prey they can and often do eat the eggs of other birds (don't worry Blitz, it isn't cannibalism unless they eat eggs of their own species). So theoretically, eggs shouldn't actually be a problem and it's not like there aren't plenty of fancy foods that involve eggs.

But maybe it's not that deep, and has nothing to do with non-gourmet quality food. Maybe our heavily autistic-coded owl just has an aversion to a lot of breakfast foods. The texture of various types of cooked eggs, in particular, can be quite contentious even for people who aren't neurodivergent, but if you do have texture sensitivities then eggs can be a huge gamble.

The expression on his face in the shot above is exactly the one I'd make if someone tried to make me eat most egg-based dishes, and then I'd probably gag the second it was in my mouth, spit it out, and shudder through the visceral desire to claw my way out of my own skin.

Yeah, kinda like that lol.

Rodents, koi fish, and kale salads are probably safer foods, because there's less ways to cook them and he had a professional chef that would be able to do it the exact same way every time. They definitely are more expensive specialty foods though, so I'm glad he and Blitz were able to find a compromise with regular rats.

And I'm glad that Blitz didn't try to shame Stolas for his food preferences, especially because Stolas looks so awkward and embarrassed just saying them out loud. If he's anything like a lot of autistic folks, he was probably berated for being a picky eater, because even if in his own home with his own staff he could control what was served to him, the same cannot be said for anywhere else that required him to eat something lest he come off as rude. Blitz just takes it in stride though and simply asks about alternatives to vole and kale, because he definitely cannot afford that on a regular basis. And Stolas doesn't make a fuss about it, just tentatively admits that he also likes rats, which Blitz is more than happy to accommodate. Yes, what he offers is back alley feral rats, but Stolas doesn't seem put off by that or demand better quality, he's just alarmed and disturbed by Blitz having his fucking eye chewed on by one.

As someone with a lot of food hypersensitivities, it means a lot to me that Blitz doesn't accuse him of being spoiled or complain about Stolas needing a different diet than him or Loona. It often is hard to accommodate alternative dietary needs - be they because of food sensitivities, allergies, intolerances, or vegan/vegetarianism - when you're on a budget, but Blitz doesn't mind and jumps straight to a non-judgmental "what can you eat?" planning mode.

Like yeah, on the surface his answer to Blitz's initial "so what do you normally eat?" question and the way he gagged from a single, tiny bite of eggs does make him seem kinda spoiled. But his completely unhesitant, unbothered willingness to eat feral fucking rats says to me it wasn't about the fact that he now has to eat "poor people" food prepared by a novice chef, but rather that something about those foods in particular is hard for him to eat in general.

Just one more thing to add to the ever-growing pile of "Stolas is autistic!!" evidence, I guess. And just one more reason why I absolutely adore Blitz.

[bleue-flora]

Wait I actually love how Sam and Quackity are Dream's safe people in the playdate au :[ 'cuz when he's feeling bad Sam will keep people away and Quackity knows how to keep company while being quiet so he doesn't get worse :[[[

Idk why but I keep imagining the kids somehow showing up on the real dsmp and the shock on everyone when all the kids immediately want Dream (because Dream is safe and he doesn't let people be unfair. Even when he's a stick in the mud he's safe)

(Sorry really really spinning them in my head. Baby Quackity hiding on C!Dream's cape and on his head C!Dream is just chanting "Don't flinch form the baby don't flinch from the baby don't flinch from the baby dont-")

Rude how can you forget Punz, Dream’s bff lol XD. But I mean safe people may be a bit of a stretch. Sam is also autistic (wait did I mention Dream is autistic? Oops yea that’s why he is often seen as weird by the other kids and manages to kinda get isolated even amongst people as a result) so he also understands and respects the need for peace and quiet from people. He can often just go home when he gets too overstimulated but Dream doesn’t really get that option (since Vik and Lazar take naps in his room), hence why he hides in the slide, so Sam often keeps him company and keeps people away when he’s having a meltdown. Sam is also a peacekeeper as well as the one helping everyone with their creations and stuff whether they need help tying their shoes, help blowing up a floaty, sewing one of Michael’s eyes back on after Sapnap was a little too rough with him, or fetch the water for Foolish’s sand castle.

Quackity on the other hand is very competitive and devious. Like the boy who’s always playfully fighting with other boys and making everything a competition. He’s also the - I learned this new cuss word our parents don’t want us to use and I saw these older kids playing this game of two truths and lie where if you get it wrong you get slapped (or something I don’t know… hopefully you know that kid I’m talking about). He’s also the one to throw out insults and start fights easily. He often ends up having to come apologize to Dream later and check if he’s okay and tries to cheer him up with some new game he learned.

Now that’s an insane idea, though the dsmp is far too explicit for them lol. (No babies btw just kids some pretty young like Lazar, Vik, Schlatt, George and Jack, with Slimecicle as the youngest but he still walks and talks and plays with his older brother, Quackity, before his oldest brother, Purpled, puts him down for a nap.) They all just huddle behind c!Dream, scared of the other members. And Dream is just trying to remind himself that the kids behind him are not trying to stab him in the back. They just want to go home to the real world or get food or whatever and their Dream was always the one to go to. C!Dream is definitely not bitter by this btw nope, definitely not, not sure what you’re talking about, he is absolutely 100% not jealous of everyone being kid Dream’s friend…

Imagine they come to the dsmp when c!Dream is still in prison and they break him out (get c!Techno to break him out like he does in canon) because - Dream is the safe one who usually has all the answers surely he knows how to get us back to our world… When c!Techno shows back up to the audience of anxious kids waiting inside his house with c!Dream hidden in the cape in his arms, c!Philza rushes all the younger ones over to his house so they don’t see the bloodied and injured shape he is in. They tell them c!Dream just needs a bath and rest instead of that he was tortured and needs medical attention. C!Techno and c!Philza being the bad parents they are (they did not sign up for this!) don’t push back against the oldest kids being stubborn and demanding what’s going on. They ended up proving to be helpful hands at least… When c!Dream is healed and wakes up, the kids pounce on him asking numerous questions in excitement and apprehension. On one hand he hasn’t had positive human touch in ages and welcomes it, on the other there are too many hands everywhere and he can’t watch them all. They think the scars are really cool, poking at the sensitive tissue and asking where they’re from, he’s forced to make up wild stories of adventure, pretending their trophies of long ago and not torture from a month ago. He tries not to flinch everytime someone refers to one of the kids as Quackity…

[goose-duck]

♡Our World♡ (pt. 1)

Killer x Reader

Killer from One Piece comes to our world and meets u :D

Pt 2

~~~~~~

I was at work, not doing anything really, my boss has me working security at an empty court house. The place smells bad and has a rodent problem, but it's quiet so I don't mind. I was on my phone, writing a One Piece fanfiction. I love One Piece, it's always been my favourite anime. It was made before I was born in 2005, but my mother loved it so I often watched it with her as a child and I fell in love.

As I continued to write I heard a strange sound and saw a headache inducing light in front of me. I had no idea what I was looking at but it sure as hell wasn't normal. I get headaches easily due to a head injury so I wasn't even able to look at the light to see what was going on…to be fair I doubted a person without a head injury would've been able to either. My ears start ringing and my head feels light but not in a good way, the radio feels like it's blaring and I can't keep my eyes open. I was starting to get worried with this strange light, it wasn't coming from anything in the room, it was just there. I hold my head, trying to stay conscious as it feels like my head is exploding.

Suddenly it all stops and there's a man standing in the middle of the courthouse. I recognize him immediately, Killer, from One Piece. What the hell? Why is he here? Am I dead? Is this heaven?? Maybe it's hell…why would it be hell, he's my favourite character..? As I continue to ask myself questions with no tangible answer he turns his mask covered head to me, “hey.” he says, almost in a questioning tone but it sounds more like he’s just trying to get my attention. I quickly snap out of my thoughts and look up at him, “hi.” I say meekly, still confused and even a little scared, the lingering effects of my headache making it hard to keep my eyes open, all lights still bothering me.

He doesn't come any closer to me however he does turn his body to face me, “where am I? Did you do this?” he asks sternly, demanding an immediate answer with his tone. I get scared, I think he's really cool, but I wouldn't doubt he'd make me regret living if he thought I did this, “no…no! Nuh uh! Not me! That sounds really suspicious…uh…it wasn't me, I swear! I do however think you're in a different reality…” I say, trying to sound as normal as possible and quite frankly failing to the largest degree. He relaxes a bit, realizing there's absolutely no way I could have done this. He then sighs again, “another reality? What makes you think that?” he askes, sounding almost stressed, definitely worried and confused. “I mean…your name is Killer, right?” I say, almost unsure despite his appearance. It’s not a common name, if its his it'll be obvious who I'm talking to. He looks stunned, I may not be able to see his face but his body language is more than enough to tell how he feels. “yeah. That's my name.” he somehow seems less trusting of me now. He continues, “how’d you know that?” it's a good question to ask, even if I know he's from an alternate reality it doesn't explain how I know his name. I start sweating a bit, this is getting stressful, “because…um…uuuuhhhhhhh” I start panicking so I just make a weird noise and freeze up.

I stop with my stressed groan and just sit there giving him a very obtuse look. He crosses his arms and I'm sure under his mask he's giving me a look too. This has got to be one of the worst shows of my lack of social skills ever. He sighs and relaxes his body, “I'm not gonna hurt ya” he says, trying to reassure and calm me down so I'll talk. I start trying to stutter out my words but I make no progress, some weird squeak coming out of my throat instead of words. I begin to get annoyed with myself and sigh dropping my head onto my desk, “fuck.” I mumble under my breath. He walks over to me, causing me to quickly sit upright to get further away without looking rude. He notices this action isn't just me sitting up, it's me being afraid. He backs up a little, holding his hands up. I mumble out an apology, “s-sor-fucking…ugh…sorry.” I try to calm myself and speak with more conviction however it doesn't work very well, I sound as pathetic as before, but I've got a calmer look on my face. He nods at me, silently acknowledgeding and returning my apology.

I sigh for the millionth time, still trying to collect myself. I begin trying to explain in terms he’d understand, “I know your name because you're from a book in this world…the author drew you on the cover of one of the books. Does that make sense? Do I sound crazy? Who am I kidding of course I do…especially now that I'm talking to myself…” I start rambling towards the end, changing from talking to him to myself. Killer seems to be a little concerned with whatever my problem is but he understands my explanation. “you sound a little strange, however this whole situation is strange so that's not a big deal.” he responds, reassuring me I don't sound completely deranged. I nod at him, an awkward smile on my face.

I ask the question that needs to be asked, “so what now?” he hums, “I need a place to stay, would you be okay with that place being with you?” he asks politely, he's giving me room to back out but I'm sure he more than knows I'll say yes, either out of pity or because he's a character from a book I like. I nod at him, “yeah, yeah, that's okay, we can do that…uh…yeah.” I squabble out at him in response, trying to hide my excitement. He looks around, “is this your house?” “no, I just work here” “ah, it smells weird” “no kidding, it smells like old people” he seems to hold back a laugh at that…right, he doesn't like his laugh…hm…I wonder at what point in the story is he from..? “hey, Killer..?” I ask tp get his attention, he looks at me, “hm?” I take in a nervous breath of air, “what's the most recent event that’s happened in your life?” his body language screams confused, “what? Why? Shouldn't you know, you've read whatever book I'm from.” I respond quickly, “oh, uh, just so I don't spoil the future potentially” he nods, “Kid and I just left Wano.” he states calmly. “ah…okay…don't read the book or anything then.” I say a little quieter than my previous words. “oh? Okay.” he says, presumably giving me a strange look under his mask.

I sit there for a second before striking up a conversation again, “I'm here for a few more hours, then I can take us to my house.” I inform him. I'm lucky, not many people can afford a house nowadays, many struggle even with an apartment, I'm just lucky my grandparents left me their house. Killer nods at me, he doesn't seem to mind that he’ll have to stay at the courthouse for a few hours. I wonder if that's because he probably does a lot of just sitting around on a pirate ship…they have no internet or anything on one of those…though he'd have people to talk to, at this job it's just me…sometimes I wonder if it'll drive me crazy. At least I have him to talk to now, even if he is a man of notably few words, at least someone's listening and I don't come off as completely nuts.

He seems fascinated by the radio I have on. It makes sense, snails do this stuff in his world. My old school radio from the 80’s definitely isn't a snail. “whatcha thinking about?” I ask, not wanting to just assume I know what he's looking at. “this thing…what…what is it?” he sounds relaxed with me now, however I still sounded skittish. “oh, it's a radio, it's an old one from the 80’s.” I say, then I realize ‘the 80’s’ is probably something he's not gonna get and I mentally slap myself. “a radio? The 80’s? What year is it?” he asks sounding a little distressed again. “a radio works like a snail and its the year 2024.” I respond nervously. “oh.” he says, sounding very perturbed. I try to change the topic, finding the atmosphere is getting uncomfortable, “want a cookie? I bought one at Tim’s earlier.” I hold out a chocolate chip cookie to him. He takes it from me, “thanks.” he then turns away, presumably to eat it. I debate telling him I've already seen his face in the book or not but I decide not to for now, I'll let him show me if he wants to.

After he finishes the cookie he turns back around, “it was good…tell Tim it was good.” He seems to have assumed ‘Tim's’ is a small personal restaurant or maybe a friend, that tracks, in his world it probably would be. “Oh…uh…I can't…it's a restaurant chain.” “A restaurant chain?” “Yeah.” “What's that?” “Corperate business?” “Nope” “ugh” “sorry” “no, don't..I…ugh…it's like if I restaurant had some power in the government?” “Oh…alright.” That was a bit awkard, but I did enjoy hearing his voice a bit more, it's nice, the sub and the dub, he's always got a beautiful voice. I get a bit ballsy and tell him that, “you've got a nice voice.” He turns his head to look at me, seeming to check if i was telling the truth. After a few seconds of stunned silence he responds with an awkward, “thanks.” he then stands there for a few more seconds, thinking about something, “what's your name?” oh right, I hadn't introduced myself, “oh…Y/N.” he nods, “it's nice, suits you.” I giggle a bit, “thanks, picked it myself.” “you did?” “yeah.” “why?” “my old name didn't ‘suit me’.” “ah, I get that.” “you do?” “kinda.” “I belive you.” “thanks?” “you're welcome!” I enjoy the quick conversation, we seem to have a deeper understanding of each other now.

A few hours later and me and him are talking like long time friends. He's still got some walls up, but we're able to just chat, it's nice. I realize it's 5:00pm and I can go home so I start closing up. “what are you doing?” he inquires. “closing up so we can go home.” I respond, flicking the lights off, “can you help me with teh blinds? Some of them are hard to reach.” he nods and gets up, going to a window and twisting the thingy to close the blinds, he continues until they're all closed. “anything else?” he askes, willing to help me further if I need it. “The chairs out front, they're such a pain to bring in…I bet it'd be easy for you.” I ask, giving him a small sweet smirk. “why?” he asks. “why bring them in or why do I think it'd be easy for you?” “both.” “there's gonna be a hurricane, I don't want the chairs to blow away. Regarding the other thing…I think your eyes work well enough for that one.” he lets out what sounds like a scoff and a laugh, “yeah, I can see that.” I giggle a bit, “nah I'm so strong.” “sure, buddy” it feels like he's smiling behind his mask so I smile back. He then nods his head and leaves to bring the chairs in for me.

When he comes inside I ask him to close the door behind him, telling him we'll be leaving through the back door. He closes the door behind him and walks over to me packing up my work stuff, “I have the next two days off so we can spend some time together and I can teach you some basic stuff about this world so it's easier for you to be here.” “alright, sounds good.” he says, picking up my monster energy drink and looking at it a bit strange, “uh, weird drink branding…what is it?” “just an energy drink.?” “why do you need that?” “I've got no energy…also it tastes good.” “why do you have no energy?” “anemia.” my answer is so blunt it seems to stun him a bit before he nods and gives a small hum of acknowledgment. “think you can hold it for me? My hands are full and I gotta be able to lock the door.” I ask him, he once again nods at me. I then head for the back door, unlocking it so we can leave, then locking it behind us once we're bothe out.

“which way to your house?” he inquires. “huh? Oh, right. You don't know what a car is..” I respond sheepishly. “a..a what?” he seems confused, which is the obvious emotion one would feel in this situation. “those things that have been going past the building all day.” “do you live in one of those?” “no, but some people do.” “why mention them then?” “they're a mode of transportation.” “I see.” I then walk over to my car, a small orange car, nothing special, “this is my car.” he looks at it like it's the strangest thing ever, “it's very orange.” “I wanted it to be easy to find.” “you definitely can't miss it.” I giggle in response. I then think for a second…will he fit? Probably…he'll just have to move the seat back. He seems to be thinking the same thing, “will I fit?” he asks, his body language seeming a little worried. “yeah, just put your seat back…wait…no…I'll do it for you.” I unlock the car, putting my things behind my seat in the back. I think walk around to the front passenger seat and get in, pushing it back for him. Instead of getting out and walking around the car like a normal person I just climb over the center console and sit in the driver's seat. “alright, get in, buddy boy!” I say casually. He gets in, seeming to snort under his breath a little at my antics. He closes the door, thank the gods that's obvious enough that I don't have to explain it.

I put my seatbelt on then I look at him in anticipation for him to do the same thing…he doesn't. “uh..um…you see that thing above your right shoulder?” “the metal thing?” “yeah.” “what about it?” “pull on it.” he pulls on it. “put the metal bit in the red thingy” I point at it and he does it. I hear the click and nod, “that's a seatbelt, you gotta wear it in cars for safety.” he nods…he does a lot of nodding. “You can handle being on a ship…so…uh…you probably won't get car sick, but tell me if you feel sick, okay?” I ask him, giving him a lightly worried look. “I will.” he responds, turning his head to look at me. I start the car and his breathing seems to stifle a bit before he calms down. “you good?” he nods at me, “yeah, just wasn't expecting that.” I nod at him, takinga page from his book and not saying anything further. I then start driving, he doesn't seem too worried about this, given he's on Kid’s crew I imagine he's dealt with worse.

Once we get to my house and parked in the driveway I unbuckle my seatbelt and look at him again, hoping he caught onto that. He looks at me awkwardly…clearly he didn't get that. “push on the red thing you put the seatbelt in” I whisper to him as if someone else would hear. He awkwardly nods and does it. I then get out of the car, him following soon after, still holding my monster…he's been holding it this whole time…oops. I grab my things from the back seat and walk up to my house, unlocking the door and walking in, giving Killer a gesture to follow. He follows behind me, closing the door when he gets inside. My house opens to a small space with some stairs upwards. I kick my shoes off and walk upstairs. He follows suit, however being a bit less aggressive about taking his shoes off, opting to slip them off rather than just violently kicking them off. He follows me up the stairs that leaf to the living room, kitchen and a hallway. I set my stuff in the kitchen on the counter by the back door, he sets my drink down there too. “thanks.” I say giving him a soft smile when he sets my drink down. “you're welcome.” he says. I'd half expected to just get a nod but this is nice.

I walk more into the center of the kitchen. “I'll give you a quick tour!” I say with some slight enthusiasm, he nods in return, watching as I walk back over to the back door, “this is the back door…obviously…” I then turn to the right, “this is a washroom.” I turn to the right again, “closet.” he nods at me and watches me slide on my socks back into the center of the kitchen, “kitchen!” I do a large enthusiastic gesture like this is some grand show. I then walk over to the left where the dining room is, it's just a table on the other side of the kitchen counter, “dining room…” I then wonder into the room next door that funnily enough doesn't actually have a door, not from this side at least, “den area.” he follows me into the room, observing it a bit and seeing some things that tip him off that the town he's in is near the ocean.

I then open the folding wooden door and walk through. He doesn't immediately follow, he's looking at a shelf beside the door, it has my graduation picture and pictures of my friends and two of my cousins. “who are these people?” he points at a picture of me and two boys as kids. “oh, that's me and my cousins.” “ah” “why do you ask?” “kid kinda looked like you.” I giggle at the irony of the kid actually being me. He seems to look at the pictures like he's looking for something. “you good?” “huh? Oh, yeah.” I seem to have caught him off guard. I give him a look, one that says ‘what are you looking for’ before shaking my head and continuing with my tour. “This is the living room!” I say enthusiastically, diverting his attention completely away from whatever he was thinking. He looks around in here too, noting how it's more vacant than the well decorated den.

I then go down the earlier mentioned hall, “there's a bigger washroom over here..” I point at the first door on the left, “and every other room is bedrooms. Mine is that one” I point at the last door on the left, there's only four door down this hall, meaning the other two are guest rooms. “the one with the queen size bed is the last door on the right and the other one has two twin beds. He nods at me and goes down to the room with the queen sized bed. He hesitates to open the door, “go in” I encourage. He opens the door and looks I side. He looks at the room like it's the ugliest thing he's ever seen. “something wrong?” “red, green and yellow…um…everything?” “yes?” “why?” “because it is.” he looks at me like there's something wrong with me. The rest of my house looks normal except for this guest room…I couldn't be bothered to fix it because I'm not in there often so it looks like how my grandparents had designed it.

“My room’s right across the hall if you need anything.” I say with a friendly tone. He nods at me and despite his judgment of my guest room he thanks me for giving him a place to stay anyway. “we'll deal with the clothes problem tomorrow, I think you'll be okay for tonight, right?” he nods, “yeah, I'll be okay for now.” I smile at him, “wanna see my room?” “sure.” I open the door to a relatively normal room, a bit messy and there's some One Piece related things but it ultimately looks normal. Why does it looks normal? Because there's a room I haven't shown killer yet. It's got my gaming set up and all my merch from different things i like…it's also got a washing machine and a drier. “nice room.” “thanks.”

“what about that room you walked past earlier?” “what room?” “the door in the kitchen?” “oh.” that's the door to the room…guess I'll have to show him. I signal for him to follow me and I open the door, theres wooden stairs that lead to an open space. I walk down and he follows. Once we get down there and around the stairs he sees many One Piece and other interesting merch items, he also sees my PC set up and a landry machine…he then sees the figures I have of him and he barely contains his laughter. “your laugh is beautiful, however, do not.” I look at him with shame and embarrassment. He struggles to hold in his laughter, snickering under his breath but calms himself and nods. “it's…great.” he tries to tell me, “don't lie.” “it's amazing.” “Killer.” “Y/N.” we stare at each other for a bit before I start laughing and he does too, he clearly is embarrassed by his laugh but can't stop it so I reassure him, “your laugh is so lively, I love it!!” I continue to laugh about my tragic obsession being on full display. He continues to laugh but gives me a genuine thankful smile for my compliment, it's like he's never heard someone say they love his laugh. Maybe he hasn't, but I love it, I do, I really do and I can see he knows it. Even if I can't actually see the smile on his face his body language changed instantly after I said that, he was calm with me anyway but it seemed like any lingering concerns melted away.

Once we both stop laughing we go back upstairs. He offers to make supper since he's gonna be staying with me for a bit and I have to break the news that I have practically no food in my house. He seems confused at that…why did have nothing here? What do I even have? “what do you have?” he asks. “uh…” I'm not even too sure myself anymore. I open the fridge to see milk, orange juice and bread. I then open the freezer, there's microwave steamed buns and some ice cream…and a frozen chocolate bar for some reason?? What the hell was I doing?? I then go to the cupboards, there's bearpaws and goldfish crackers. “um…sorry?” I uppologize confusedly, unsure if he'd be upset with me.

He just pats my head, seemingly feeling bad for me. “I won't take your food tonight.” he says kindly, walking off to the guest room, probably to sleep so he doesn't feel hungry. I feel bad that I have no food…I don't have the money for food…Killer doesn't seem upset with me, but he seems worried, he feels bad for me and my lack of food. I sigh and go to my room too, I didn't even get to show him the TV or my phone but maybe that's for the best for now…give him some time to think about what he's already seen. I go to my bedroom, not to sleep, but just to play games on my phone for a while. I'll wait for him to come talk to me if he wants to tonight and if not then I'll see him in the morning…presuming he's still here in the morning.

[meyerlansky]

twenty questions for fic writers!

tagged by @redbelles AND @inkpot-demigod 🖤💙🖤💙 took me eighteen years but i figured i ought to get it done before the emoji asks >_>

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

39!

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

133,253

3. what fandoms do you write for?

right now it's just masters of the air, because i really only focus on one fandom at a time but i also don't really LEAVE fandoms so much as they go dormant for a bit. in the last year i've at least TOUCHED wips for boardwalk empire and the witcher, and once bachelor route drops i will probably go back to some of my pathologic 2 fics and maybe come up with new stuff. same with HotD s2, although i don't know how much new stuff will come out of that vs finishing up things in metamorphoses.

4. top five fics by kudos

keep safe broad shoulders, warm hands keds and tube socks vestis virum facit denuo

so mostly burakhovsky smut, except for keep safe which is outsider pov nearly-gen lambden (from the witcher and specifically witcher 3) fic, and i have NO idea how it's my most-kudosed fic; and keds and tube socks, which is a long-ass (for me) steddie fic that i WILL finish at some point i am so sorry to everyone who's subbed to that fic /o\

5. do you respond to comments?

I TRY MY BEST ;___; i really like talking to people about fic, mine and others', so every comment i've left unresponded-to haunts me, but sometimes i can't get over my own anxiety enough. the only time it's deliberate is if the only content in the comment is "you have to write more of this" or anything similar and phrased EXCLUSIVELY like a demand, because It's Rude and also i have no idea how to respond to that.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

explicitly angsty is probably with my ash-stained palms or broad shoulders, warm hands because neither ryuzo or daniil get what they want in those ones, though i think bswh!daniil would get what he wants eventually. ryuzo, maybe not >_> dancing cheek to cheek (to cheek) is also probably up there, but that's more interesting because it's not angsty on the page! and i WAS planning on leaving it as is, originally! that's why it has the canon compliant tag! but now i'm 8k deep in a canon-divergent sequel so idk if it counts anymore. genuinely i was planning on answering this with "i don't write a lot of unresolved angst" but. hm.

...wait, also hot blood, deep roots. which is the dark mirror nightmare counterpart of bswh and is... definitely worse. and i have something even worse in my wips okay i guess i write more angst than i thought

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably vestis virum facit, since the final section is implied to be far-enough post-plague that they're Gonna Be Okay. but like the angst question, i don't really think of too many of my fics as the And They Lived Happily Ever After, The End type so much as like... they're happy In That Moment and that's what matters

8. do you get hate on fics?

i got put on the patho fandom blacklist for associating with Freaks And Criminals, and then i wrote hot blood, deep roots to cement my spot on it, so if that counts that's the extent of it afaik. i do worry about catching flak for stuff down the line, but honestly haters tend to be cowards, sooo

9. do you write smut?

LOVE WRITING SMUT. LOVE IT WHEN MY GUYS NAIL EACH OTHER. IT'S MY FAVORITE. i had like a year-long stint before stranger things s4 where i only posted genfic and i was SO disappointed with myself, even though the stuff i posted was GOOD genfic

10. craziest crossover:

don't really do crossovers! but entertaining daemon au thoughts is how i know i'm in a fandom deep enough that it's gonna stick for a bit, even though i've only posted daemon au fic for bwe thus far

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

also not to my knowledge!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i'm not opposed to spitballing with people, and some of my best bwe work has come out of very long headcanon exchanges with @goatsandgangsters and @therestisdetail in particular, but i am not a consistent enough writer to saddle anyone else with my habits, so that's the closest i've gotten to cowriting anything.

14. all time favorite ship?

L A N S K I A N O. they are my forever boys. nothing will topple them. ever.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

NONE OF MY WIPS ARE ABANDONED THEY ARE ALL GOING TO GET DONE EVENTUALLY DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT

16. what are your writing strengths?

snappy dialogue and the internal character work involved in a tight third person pov, which is good since a tight third is the only way i like to write

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

speed. if i don't finish something inside of a week of starting it, it will drag out for an infinity and a half and i'll have to chip away at it and hate myself for being slow the whoooooooooole time. i also... i have no idea how to explain this, but i don't consider myself an especially creative person, so i have trouble if i don't have a jumping off point to start with? most of my fics have pretty solid touchpoints in the canon and tend to be one-shots, if not single-scene. coming up with new shit for my dudes to do can be a struggle. which, tbh, adds to the speed thing, especially for stuff that tilts off into canon-divergent territory

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

alright, listen, i might have an entire buryat dictionary database downloaded onto my hard drive to spice up patho fic, but i'm in agreement with previous answers on this one: it can get dicey to write in a language you don't know, and if your readers don't know it it will interrupt the flow in a way that's not usually what i'm looking to do in a fic. that said, most of my fandoms have at LEAST one non-english language involved, if not multiple, so i do end up doing a lot of research into those languages, and i'm absolutely not opposed to pulling out single-words or phrases after either a. checking with someone who speaks those languages, if it's a real one, or b. pulling them from their usage in the canon itself and/or sometimes extrapolating out a bit, like the high valyrian i peppered into chrysalis

19. first fandom you wrote in?

boardwalk empire my beloved 🖤🖤🖤 i played around with some stuff prior to that—i think i'd noodled with what would technically be alice in wonderland fic in high school, although i don't remember what happened in it—but nothing substantial enough to count as Actual Fic, and definitely not anything i have access to anymore

20. favorite fic you've written?

MAN. HOW TO CHOOSE. it's maybe a little bit of recency bias to say dancing cheek to cheek (to cheek), but i think it's a tie between that and junkyard dogs, and both for the same reason, which is that i am really proud of the character work they do with curt and eddie, respectively. i'm not SURPRISED jd is as low on the hits/kudos/etc scale as it is since it's genfic and billy is...... divisive........... but i really think i nailed eddie in it. with dctc(tc) it was fun to get to play with curt, who's... look, i'm just gonna say it, i think he gets mischaracterized in a lot of the other fandom stuff i've seen involving him, so it was fun to get how i read him down on the page. it's also interesting to not only develop curt internally but to look at the buckies from an outsider POV, because they are UNDENIABLY the love story at the center of MotA's narrative, but they're both IN IT so they can't SEE IT. i also don't usually do scene breaks? like most of my fics are single-scene but i dragged dctc(tc) out and shockingly it WORKED? so yeah idk i'm just really proud of it.

OKAY. WHOOF. TIME FOR TAGS. let's seeeeeeeeee i will tag @goatsandgangsters @hosseinis @chirpybirdy @sweaterkittensahoy @reiverreturns

@samuelroukin @stoportotouch @notgrungybitchin @adriennefrombrooklyn and anyone else who wants to, but no pressure as always!

[badlucksav]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @nyamadermont for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 199. I don’t know what the 200th will be yet 😅

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 1,836,320. That’s a whole lot of characters kissing.

3. What fandoms do you write for? My most common ones are Avatar: The Last Airbender and Avatar: Legend of Korra, but I’ve also written fics for The 100, Six of Crows, Law & Order: SVU, Spiderman (Tom Holland), Harry Potter, MCU, The Last of Us, Soul Eater, Spy x Family, Stranger Things, and Twilight.

Honestly though I haven’t been writing much fanfic. I’ve shifted what focus I have for writing to poetry and original fiction.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. The Proposal — a Zutara AU based on the 2009 Sandra Bullock & Ryan Reynolds movie of the same name.

2. An Unlikely Alliance — a Zutara season 2 divergence fic where they find themselves traveling together

3. Your Number 1 Fan — a NSFW Zutara AU where Katara is a cam girl and Zuko is a subscriber

4. Perks of Being Your Neighbor — a Zutara modern AU with fluffy good “neighbors” tropes as well as big brother Zuko to an orphaned Kiyi.

5. Play with Fire — yet another Zutara modern AU. This time, they’re in college. Slowburn, tons of pining.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! Comments are a writer’s lifeblood. The only time I usually don’t is if the comment is rude or demanding of an update.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would hands down be The Conduit, if only because I left it on one hell of a cliffhanger and then never wrote the sequel.

My bad yo

Second angstiest (sort of?) would be The Ghost of You (iykyk)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I like happy endings, so I feel like most of my fics have one. I’d say, for the level of pining and enemies-to-lovers aspect, The Proposal probably takes that cake.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Can’t get hate if you write rare pairs or rarely post

But yes, I used to. It actually drove me away from posting on ffn, and also drove me away from the Zutara fandom for a long time (and even still, I’ve never really come back).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh yes, oh yes I have. And I write everything from soft vanilla first time sex to dirty kinky hot sex. Fully depends on my mood.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t write them much, but the crackiest one was definitely the drabble I wrote throwing Rocket from Guardians of the Galaxy, Joel from The Last of Us, and Kaz Brekker from Six of Crows into an elevator together.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think I’ve had a few requests for permission to translate, but I’m not sure if anything was ever actually translated.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I co-wrote with @idklolwot!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oofers, what a loaded question. All time favorite? Like I have to pick one?? Impossible.

It’s a tie between Irosami and Zutara.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof, at this point like all of them 💀 at least as fanfic. I’m considering taking some and turning them into original fiction.

16. What are your writing strengths?

People seem to like the character interactions I write as well as how i describe settings and the character’s inner monologues.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I definitely find the climax/conclusion to be the hardest. Maybe that’s why I never finish fics.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If I spoke other languages fluently, I think I’d give it a try. But I don’t, so I won’t.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First fandom I wrote and posted for was Avatar: The Last Airbender. But I recently unlocked memories of writing super cringe Twilight fanfic in middle school that never saw the light of day.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This answer changes often. There are so many fics I love for different reasons (The Conduit is some of my most creative work, The Fire and the Flood is some of my best writing, The Proposal is actually finished…) but as of right now, it’s The Fire and the Flood. Maybe because I’m rereading it and falling in love with it again.

Tagging some of my favorite writer folks. If you’ve already been tagged, feel free to ignore 🤣

@orangepanic @neva-borne @mycomfortblanket @krastbannert @authorjoydragon

[lemonnbug]

Eye Contact

Here have this Eddie comforting/being nice to reader fic i definitely didn't write bc I was feeling bad about my anxiety '_' Eddie is a very nice weirdo in this and I love him.

Warnings: reader has bad anxiety, mentions of an anxiety attack, minor mentions of tactile hallucinations bc those fkng suck, cussing, I think that's it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Open your eyes."

The demand throws you mentally off balance, eyes shooting open to stare at the teacher standing in front of you, the sentence you were in the middle of dying on your lips.

"What?" You smile nervously, feeling the looks from the other students sitting around you.

Mrs. Silmore, the history teacher, looked less than pleased by your question, her hands resting on her hips as she stares you down.

"You keep closing your eyes when you talk, and avoiding eye contact. It's very rude."

You hadn't noticed you were doing that, but the flood of embarrassment washes over you like a cold front, palms suddenly sweaty and mouth dry. You believe her, you knew you struggled with eye contact because of your anxiety, but you didn't know it was that bad, and certainly not that noticeable. And you didn't know you closed your eyes, but now that's all you can think about as you try to say something.

You had been answering a question about the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, feeling somewhat proud for making yourself raise your hand, something you were now regretting.

"Oh, oh um, I'm sorry.." You stutter out, feeling the heat flush to your cheeks as a few kids snicker, your mind going blank, "I was saying that...that uh..if he hadn't, hadn't been..there…" The snickers get louder, or maybe they don't, maybe they're just echoing through your head, bouncing around and ricocheting off the thoughts of "you're a freak" "who closes their eyes while talking?" "You're not normal" "you're not normal you're not normal you're not normal"

"Sorry," you mumble, voice pathetically small, willing yourself to keep eye contact, "I lost my train of thought."

"Hm," Mrs. Silmore walks back to the blackboard, finally looking away, "anyone else?"

Your eyes drop to your desk and stay there for the rest of class, trying to ignore the anxiety induced itch creeping along your arms. Freak. You just can't be normal, can you? The bell signals the end of your quiet suffering, and you stand to hurry out of the room, apologizing when you accidentally bump into someone in your haste, speeding out of the room before they even reply. Out in the hall you side step and avoid the barreling masses as you try to make your way to the bathroom, a ball forming and growing in your chest, crawling up your throat and making it hard to breathe. You burst through the bathroom door and grab hold of a sink, taking deep shuddering breaths as your fingers grip the basin, eyes squeezed shut. In, 1 2 3 4, hold, 1 2 3 4, out, 1 2 3 4 5 6. Repeat. The feeling shrinks and crawls back into your chest, nestled against your breastbone where it normally resides, smaller but never gone. Always there.

A group of girls walk in and shoot you glances, you recognize one of them, Nancy, you think, as she eyes you quizzically. "Hey, are you okay?" Freak. Freak. Freak. Your hands begin to shake as you turn the water on, "Yeah, I'm good." You manage, running your hands under the stream before turning it off, grabbing a few paper towels and brushing past her out into the hall, halfway to your next class when you realize you're still holding the paper towels. Why can't you be normal?

~~~~~~~~~~~

You finally reach free period and it couldn't have come sooner. You'd been stuck in your head ever since history class, well, more stuck than usual. Flytrap level stuck instead of scotch tape stuck. You sit on the bottom bleacher, staring out at the empty football field, mind swarming despite the fresh air and fair weather.

It hadn't even been the first time someone pointed out your social issues, just the most public. You couldn't count the number of times your parents had reprimanded you for not looking at them when speaking, or moving away when they went to touch you during a bad anxiety episode. They didn't understand that none of it was an insult to them, that you wished you could act like everyone else, laughing and talking and not having to worry if you were doing what a normal person would do, wondering if you were sitting like a normal person, talking like a normal person, existing like a normal person. They had no idea what it was like in your head, and boy oh boy, they sure didn't want to either.

Freak. Freak. Sitting here by yourself staring at nothing like a freak.

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" The shout comes from a few feet away, from a guy standing on the bleacher seats and walking towards you, arms waving towards the empty field. He plops down beside you with a huff, "Can you believe he fumbled the ball like that?" He shakes his head harshly, shaggy hair whipping around as he sighs dramatically, eyes moving across the field as if watching a game. You remember him from the cafeteria a few times, always loud and energetic, not seeming to care who looked his way or what they thought of him. You had wondered many times how he could be so comfortable drawing that much attention to himself. But then again, dressed the way he was, in ripped black jeans and a leather jacket, chains and a shirt that fits him like that, he had to be more than ok with the looks he must get.

"Yeah," you mumble, wondering if he's crazy or just bored, "what a disgrace to the team." He lets out a snort before adding, "Oh, to the very game itself!" You laugh, deciding he must just be bored. You both sit there quietly, staring out at the field and not saying anything. Which is fine. Sometimes people do this. They just sit. This is normal. You aren't being weird. You aren't being weird. You're being weird. He's probably waiting for you to talk, he spoke last and now it's your turn. But it's been too long since the silence started, won't you look even weirder for a delayed comment as opposed to an absent one?

"Oh look, a streaker." He calmly breaks the silence for you, and you can't help the laugh that bubbles up, sharp and loud, your hand flying up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. "Come on," he continues, apparently spurred on by your outburst, "don't laugh at the poor guy, his bits don't look that weird." You laugh again, this time not bothering to suppress it. "You're right," you say, playing along, "I don't wanna give him a complex." He laughs, a deep, full laugh.

"Hey, don't worry about it, by the way," he says after a minute, eyes still fixed on the field. Confused, you rack your brain for what he could mean. "Huh?" He leans forward like he's suddenly enthralled by the imaginary game, then disappointedly slumping down. He's really invested in this bit, isn't he? "You skedaddled outta there before I could tell you." He explains, as if that explained anything. You slowly shake your head, more confused than ever. "Sorry?"

"COME ON COME ONE COME ON COME O- OHH, DAMNIT." He's suddenly standing up, screaming at the field. Nope. Not bored, crazy.

"History class," Oh. Was he there? Did he see? Of course he did if he was there. Was he snickering? The thoughts start flooding back. "You bumped into me," he clarifies, sitting back down. "You left before I could tell you not to worry about it."

"Oh."

"Not that I blame you," he adds, leaning back on his elbows, "Mrs. Silmore is a total soul-crusher."

"Yeah, I guess." Freak. Freak. Freak. He saw you. He thinks you're a freak. He's just trying to be nice because he feels bad for you.

"Yup. Eye contact is overrated." You chuckle at his words, feeling that ball of anxiety staying firmly snug in your chest, sated for the time being. "I'm just.." You start, choosing your words carefully, "not good at it, when..talking to people." He nods like it's the most normal thing, like I'm normal.

"Well, I won't look at you if you don't look at me."

You smile, yeah, definitely crazy. "Deal."

A few minutes pass in silence, although it's a comfortable silence this time, interrupted by Eddie letting out a long sigh.

"Would you look at that score? 0 to 0. What a terrible fake football game." 

[cosmiccrushes]

Not Part Of The Crew

Law x OC || 2.1k word ch || 26.3k total

full fic on ao3 :)

CH 12: Rue

The consequences of Rue’s actions settle around her like a blanket of dense, painful fog in the coming days. It’s hard to think of anything but how much she aches. Attacking Trafalgar Law, while viciously satisfying, had truly been a vastly stupid move. Without Law’s medical treatment, she’s forced to admit she would have died. Twice. She loathes the thought of owing him her life, especially when she never asked him for it. But he continues to treat her wounds with a genteel manner that continues to baffle her. With nothing else to do but lay there and attempt to ignore his presence, she mulls over his offer. There was no way he genuinely meant to provide her aid, with no conditions or ulterior motives. That wasn’t how pirates worked. More likely, he recognized his serious miscalculation earlier when trying to bend her to his will and was seeking to course correct. 

Still, even factoring in whatever schemes for domination he might have, it was hard to feel like that wasn’t a future problem for Rue to deal with. Hard not to consider him as a real option– and maybe her only option– to defeat the Fang Pirates. Law doesn't seem cruel. Dangerous and lethal, definitely- he’d just offered to help her kill a bunch of people after all. And she didn’t understand why, what was in it for him. But even if he did plan to take over the Fang Pirates territory, it was difficult to see how things could get worse for people. It would just be more of the same. And at least this time, it’d be an evil she knew.

She could accept Law’s offer for help. Use this time to learn everything about him she could. And when he inevitably tried to subjugate her and the people of Ashita Island, she’d be prepared to do something about it. She knew the villagers expected nothing from her. But maybe she could offer up her life for the one Fangle had taken. It wouldn’t bring Carlo back, but it was the only way she knew to honor his memory. Rue would fight like hell to survive this. If she had to use Trafalgar Law to do it, she would. And if, in the end, she had to sacrifice her life to stop him, she’d do that too.

She’d spoken the truth to Law earlier. It was time for a new approach to living. Survival had exhausted her, worn her down into a point that she wanted to turn towards the danger, not away. Whatever happened with the Fang Pirates, whatever came next with the Heart Pirates- she wanted her revenge and she’d pay any price to get. Including clawing her way out of the clutches of another crew that she didn’t want to be a part of.

It was the wisp of a plan. But it was all she had. 

***

She waits for Law to finish rewrapping the bandage on her head before speaking. 

“Look,” she starts. “If this offer of yours is real and going to work, then you’ll need to know my story.” She pauses here, letting the words hang. Law turns from the tray he's tidying up to look at her. “I'll have conditions for our arrangement. And then you’ll need to answer one simple question. Got it?”

Law nods, giving her his full attention.  

She motions for him to sit on the stool beside her bed, then inhales deeply, breathing out a slow, steadying breath. “A year ago, I stopped on Ashita Island, routine business. I make a point of passing through there every few months, staying for a time.” She looks away from his piercing eyes. “It’s a busy trade port, lots of berry to be earned. I came in late at night, went straight to the inn with the tavern I usually perform at, slept until it was time for my performance the next night. That night, I began my set, everything was normal. Until this group of pirates shoved in. Rude, demanding people clear tables closest to the stage. All things considered, not the worst behavior I’ve ever seen from pirates.” 

She shakes her head. “But their captain…the moment he set his eyes on me I’m pretty sure he decided that I was just a songbird he could lock away in a cage.” Her voice hardens. “He approached me at intermission. Said he’d like it if I joined his crew, performed under his banner. Would I be interested? I politely declined. He said he understood of course. I thought all was well. He called a server over, to order a drink as a show of appreciation for my performance.” Rue swallows past the lump in her throat. “And then he slit the server's throat. I watched her bleed out on the tavern floor. His crew’s swords raised at anyone who dared to help. He said that would happen to one patron a night until I agreed to join his crew.” She looks back at Law. He says nothing.

“You can probably fill in the rest. They called themselves the Fang Pirates, led by Captain Malax Fangle. And within the span of a day they’d sunk their teeth into Ashita Island. The townspeople were terrified. Any business owner who refused to pay a tithe to them, they killed.” They eventually came to collect dues from every villager who wished to remain alive. 

“I wasn’t going to refuse him again, not if it meant people would die. The tavern owner where I performed, Carlo, was the closest thing to a friend I had in that town.” Rue bites her lip, shaking her head, shaking away the grief pressing behind her eyes. “In the entire ocean, actually. I wanted to protect him. And I thought,” her voice falters anyway. “Surely this will be temporary. Surely the marines will come eventually. We’ll find a way out of this. You can probably fill in how that went too.” 

“So a year later, why did you finally run?” Law asks quietly. “What changed?”

“Because he killed Carlo.” She refuses to let tears fall. Her story she might need to share, but her tears belong to her, not Trafalgar Law. “Carlo did everything they asked of him. I did everything they asked of me. And Malax killed him, simply because he had tried to protect me.” The memory of his blood dripping off the bar plays in her mind. At night, when she can't sleep, she's haunted by that drip drip drip. 

“Protect you?” Law asks. 

Rue levels a glare at him. “Malax normally didn’t try anything with me. I sang, gave him the berry. That was that. But that night…” A coldness seeps into Rue’s bones. “He’d had an exorbitant amount of liquor. Wanted me serving all of his drinks myself. He got…handsy. I got angry. Cracked an ale flask over his head.” Rue’s teeth bite down on the mistake, as if she can devour it out of her memory. But she doesn't deserve to forget.

“I think it would’ve ended there. Or well, with me getting the shit kicked out of me. Except Carlo,” Rue’s voice cracks over his name. “Carlo, who I’d told so many times, don’t get involved, no matter what. I can handle it. Malax raised his hand at me and Carlo stopped him.” She can feel tears pooling in her eyes and blinks long and hard to will them away. 

“Malax put a blade in his chest. He died on the floor of his own tavern and there was nothing I could do to stop it.” Rue could still hear his voice answering her when she’d asked him why, why would he do that? Because that’s what you do for family, Cerulean. He died looking up at her with a smile on his face.   

“That’s when I realized, I wasn’t protecting anyone. None of us were. We were just trapped in a perpetual state of misery and fear. So, I plotted my escape. I knew it would be short-lived,” she shrugs. “But I thought it was the only chance I had of trying to find a way to stop Malax. To make him pay. And here you are.” She waves her hand up and down Law. 

“Why would your escape be short-lived?” Law asks, brow wrinkled.

“Because,” a grim smile shades her face. “Malax Fangle is a devil fruit user. He ate the Sagasu Sagasu no Mi. The Find Find fruit.” Law’s brow smooths out in understanding. “No matter where you go, how far you run. Malax can find you, he only needs to have touched you once.” 

“Why does he want you back so bad? No offense, but why is one bard worth all of that trouble?” 

“Offense taken, you've never even heard me sing,” she replies, before plastering her most sultry smile across her lips. She wishes she could see the tops of Law's ears under that hat to learn if it makes him blush at all. “I am very good at what I do. But, it's about more than that.” Her smile drops away. “I insulted him by escaping. Tarnished his infallible reputation. No one leaves the Fang Pirates. He won't let that go unpunished.” 

“Most power hungry men wouldn't.” Law appears lost in thought…or perhaps a memory of his own. “What are your conditions?” 

“I won't be a prisoner. I want free rein to come and go as I please around the ship.”

“Done.” The hint of a smile tugs up one side of his mouth. “Just, don’t try to flood the ship, please. I really will have to intervene.” 

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, then continues with her demands. “I want to ask you questions and get answers. I need to understand who you are. I gave you my story, now you give me yours.” 

A muscle in Law's jaw twitches and she thinks he might refuse. “I doubt that was your whole story.” 

“No. But it's as much as you're going to get. You might have noticed the significant power imbalance in this proposed alliance.” Law's expression is unreadable– or maybe just devoid of any emotional significance. “Information about you is to…balance the scales a bit. Do we have an agreement?” She sticks close to the truth behind her intentions. In the game of manipulating him, she figured it hardly mattered that he knew the rules. It’s no secret that he holds the upper hand, that the deck is stacked in his favor. She needed him to at least agree to deal her in.   

“We do.” 

“Good.” She's surprised by his cooperation, but endeavors not to show it. “Now. The one question I need you to answer first.” She doesn't expect it to be honest, but she hopes it reveals something about him nonetheless. “Why?” 

Trafalgar Law doesn't look away, his voice doesn't waver as he says, “You feel familiar. I guess that made me want to help.” 

Rue's heart races but it doesn't feel like fear. Not the kind of fear she's used to anyway. It feels too adjacent to the feeling that sparked through her the first time she'd caught him without his hat, hair messy from sleep. It made her feel scraped raw. Like someone had taken a dry bristle brush to her skin and rubbed until her bare nerves were exposed. It made her want to stab him again. 

“I'll accept your answer, Trafalgar Law. But let's get one thing straight. We are not friends. You do not know me. I'm accepting your help because you're offering it and I need it. This doesn't end with me willingly joining your crew.” 

Law watches her for a beat, then nods his head once. “Understood.” 

“Then,” she holds out her uninjured hand to him. “We have a deal.” 

He places his palm in hers. His hand is warm and soft. She supposed you didn’t necessarily earn calluses when you could cut out a man’s beating heart without laying a finger on him- or so the stories say. She shakes his hand once. His grip lingers on hers for a millisecond longer when she lets go. 

Then he walks away. She has no idea what he means by her feeling familiar to him. What ghost from his past she might remind him of. The last time she’d been familiar to someone, it had ended with her own personal haunting, a ghost she’d never exorcise. She held no illusions that 

Trafalgar Law would die for her. But perhaps whoever she reminded him of was information she could use against him. So that when she needed to, she could get close enough to cut his heart out first, before he wrapped chains around hers and gave her the false choice and empty hope of ever earning the key to her freedom. 

[the-present-is-a-gift-au]

Chapter 26: In Which Darkrai Asks a Question

Twig sent back a note that she had some loose ends to tie up before she could visit Kip, hoping that the note would buy her some time thanks to how she hadn’t specified a day she’d be coming back to Treasure Town. Ark, confusingly, almost elected to stay home when she ran to the post office to deliver it. She told him she was heading out, and he replied with a distracted hum. Confused, she asked if he wanted to come along, and he seemed to snap awake and rushed after her out the door. He watched everyone and everything with a strange look in his eyes as they made their way through Verdant Village— somewhere between sorrowful longing and bitter anger. Whatever it was in his gaze, it wasn’t the awkward, distant sort of cheerfulness she was used to from him. He wasn’t regarding everything with a wide-eyed awe— it was a narrow sort of scrutiny that didn’t fit on Ark’s face. 

Honestly, he seemed a bit ticked in his distractedness. There were moments he was almost irritable— not enough to truly be called irritable, though, because this was Ark she was talking about. He just seemed a bit… short. Maybe a little snippy in how he responded to her questions about if they had enough food to make it to the next weekday market. Not enough to qualify as rude, but he was colder than usual. 

Weird. She could look past it though. She had her moodier days— he probably was just going through one of his own.

She ignored all of that, but she couldn’t look past him asking her that long-dreaded question as she sorted through the groceries she’d grabbed on the way back from the post office, glad to finally be home. “How long were you planning on keeping this up?”

She set down an oran berry she was examining for bruises, confused. “What the heck are you talking about, man?”

“How long did you intend to lie to me?”

“Dude, I’ve never once lied to…” 

Oh. 

She recognized the chilliness to his tone now, the coldness of his gaze. She recognized the way he postured himself and seemed to take all the light out of the room with his presence. 

It all belonged to Darkrai, of course, and fit so poorly on Ark. 

Suddenly a number of things made sense— the fact that he knew Kip had a cowardly streak, the way he spoke as he asked her about joining Team Venture, even the way that he held himself these past weeks— Darkrai remembered. He remembered, and he was mad. Twig had never once seen him upset. Never ruffled, never perturbed— Darkrai was always calm, always cool, always collected, and never the picture of burning cold rage before her.

She should be terrified. Something in her was definitely cowering at the sight of Darkrai so furious before her, but she managed to hold her ground despite the coward in her begging to run. She was tired. Maybe she was ready to die if it meant she could get some rest.

“Your answer?” He demanded.

She tried to come up with some pacifying response to give him, but could only summon the truth. She was tired. It had been a long time of lying to keep people safe. She had already messed everything up. Why not get some stuff off her chest before she kicked the bucket? “I was going to keep it up as long as it took.”

“You fully intended to keep my past hidden from me, tucked tidily away for all of time?” He loomed over her— or more like he tried to, at least. Twig didn’t back down. 

She gave him a weary glare. “Can you blame me?”

A long, tense silence filled the air. It felt like if she reached out a claw, she could pluck it like a string.

“Are you going to kill me?” She asked.

Conflict flashed across his face. 

“Just get it over with already. I’ve been waiting for this to happen. Might as well get it done after all that waiting.”

“I’m not—”

“Not what?” She spat. “Not the type to get your hands dirty? Too bad. If you leave me alive, I’ll tell Kip and Cresselia— everyone— and we’ll be stuck in the same situation we started in. You’ll face off with us in Dark Crater, I’ll end up cursed or whatever that arm thing you did was, and you’ll end up without your memories again or something. I don’t care. Just get it over with.” Tears pricked at her eyes despite her frustration. “I’m tired. I’m done. I blew the shot I had at keeping everyone safe and getting a friend while I was at it. So kill me.”

Again, that conflict flickered across his features. He scowled and seemed to ready himself to deal that mortal blow… but he vanished instead, melted into the shadows. She could sense he was still in the room, judging by the heavy atmosphere that surrounded him remaining, but he was gone without a visible trace.

Twig got the feeling he didn’t want to talk. Too bad.

“You’ve got the perfect opportunity here, man. It’d be kind of stupid to pass it up when I’m literally telling you to get it over with.”

Silence.

“You’d be doing me a favor, you know,” she murmured.

No answer.

“… How long have you remembered?”

The heaviness in the air crescendoed, and then it lifted. He was gone.

Twig wondered why he left without finishing the job.

[peste-bubonica]

In the corpse spouse AU how did y/n and eclipse first interaction go? (I need drawing material haha)

Eclipse: *exists*

Y/N:

It was loathe at first sight

But in all seriousness, I was gonna touch on this on next chapter, so I guess you can have this as a preview or something

Looking at him now, you can’t help but go back to when you first met him. You note, with no small amount of distaste, that despite the years that have passed, how little he has change.

The memories come unwillingly, feeling like hours in what were actually a few seconds. Images of a blue sky with white, fluffy clouds, people waking around minding their own business; screams of terror coming from children running out the forest, slight tremors beneath your feet in their wake. Your parents taking you home in a desperate run.

It wasn't until a few days later, when things had calmed down, that you saw what had caused such panic in the people.

You were called to deal with a new wealthy folk, one that apparently had made your town their home during the panic that had occurred. You didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't... whatever this was.

Giant machinery with two legs and two arms, and while the fact that it had managed to get clothes that fit, the thing that most captured your attention was its head in the shape of a sun.

You would even go to so far as to call its face mesmerizing were it not for the dark scowl being aimed directly at you.

You don't notice the sneer you aim back.

Scoffing, it looks behind you, to the messenger that came to fetch you.

"This is the best this town had to offer?" He? It sounded like a he, spit out, as if disgusted he was even talking to them. The audacity! "I wasn't even expecting much, but this is just embarrassing."

Now normally, you would avoid most negative comments to rude people that sought your help, but this... this thing just directly insulted your abilities to your face, and was being unnecessary unpleasant! There was a lot you were willing to endure; this wasn't it.

"–Whatever. Fleshling, you will do-"

"Shut up." You spat, voice positively venomous; so much, in fact, the machine recoiled slightly, before narrowing his eyes, insulted by the audacity of the small (to him) human.

"What," He lowered his head slightly to look at you directly in the eyes, an you swore that even at a distance, you felt heat coming off of him in waves, "did you say?"

Unfazed, you stare back unblinkingly before taking a step forward and pointing at his face. "I said, 'Shut. Up'."

Growling, the unnamed thing shoves his head even closer, so much that if you extended your arm, it would touch him, and you had no doubt you would get burnt.

"Now listen here, you pest!-" Not giving him a second to continue, you shove yourself even further, hand just hovering a few inches off his face.

"No, you listen here!" You exclaim, interrupting him again. "You asked for me, not the other way around. You do not get to boss me around as you wish. My services only include advice and an easier way to form relationships in this community, I will not tolerate another insult." Taking a deep breath, you try and calm yourself before you say something you shouldn't, "If you have a problem with it, then you are free to do whatever you need on your own."

Never had someone made you feel so pissed in your life. Honestly, you had received worse from the older generations at the beginning of your job, but it was as if he activated the fight response in you. Now, you were starting to get a little worried at the lack of an answer.

He doesn't speak and his face is blank; you don't know what he is thinking, and you honestly can't decide if that's a good thing or not.

Had you been able to read his mind, you would definitely settle on the latter.

In his mind, it's as if he is just now truly seeing you.

When he first came those few days ago, he immediately rose to the top; no one dared question him. What he demanded was done, and so help anyone that showed any rebellious attitude; a glare, then he wouldn't get any more trouble from them.

Yet now, here you stood, young, foolish, weak human, criticizing his manners, having the nerve to interrupt him, even after all the intimidation he did; standing your ground despite the fact that you could undoubtedly tell he could burn you if you got any closer.

'This feeling...' Whatever it was, he hadn't ever felt it before, and by god, he didn't want it to stop. The closest he had felt to this was that fateful night when he became free.

Making up his mind, he finally connects back to his body, noting that your eyes were less irritated but no less fierce. Smirking, he goes back to his full height, easily towering above most of the houses.

"Fine, then. Let's get to work, miss...?"

The sudden change takes you off guard, he can tell, if only because he was looking so intensely at you, otherwise he would have missed it. He didn't really need your name, the pathetic human that had gone to get you had only told him your surname, however.

"L/N"

Pity, he was hoping to get your name. No matter, he will get it from you one way or another. For now, he would enjoy this new feeling that seemed to be related to you.

"Pleasure. You will call me Eclipse."

[horrorknife]

need ur hoffheight thoughts on 3 + 4 + 18 + 26!

3) What was their first impression of each other?

at first adam's kind of scared of this huge lumbering monosyllabic man who just pulled him out of that bathroom, and then he's just Irritated w him once shit settles down because hoffman is, above all else, fucking infuriating hoffman saves adam from the bathroom cuz it makes him feel some shit he thought died inside him a long time ago. unfortunately the kid is annoying and asks soooo many questions. doesn't he understand the sanctity of good old peace and quiet. christ.

4) Who initiates affection? Why does the other not initiate affection as much?

this is such a tough question to answer bc they display affection in very quiet ways to me. like adam is probably usually the one initiating, but it's stuff like laying his legs over mark's lap or teasingly punching him in the shoulder or biting at him (if u dont count like. horny neck kissing/sitting in lap/etc bc hes usually a v forward instigator when it comes to sex). stuff like that. hoffman doesnt initiate as often cuz hes very self contained and distracted but when he Does initiate it's a lot more forward. ie gripping adam's hips from behind or skirting his hand against the small of his back when passing by or ruffling his hair

18) How do they care for each other when one of them is wounded/sick?

hoffman likes taking care of adam but he loves pretending to be inconvenienced by it. absolutely is the kind of guy to "be nice" to you while patching you up and instead it just ends up sounding rude and condescending. adam can read between the lines about it. when adam's sick hoffman will do some one off shit like bring him his favorite snack and it always gets him teased. what are you some kind of faggot? adams the kind of person to go full mother hen on someone without realizing it and it's always funny. he definitely scolds hoffman when he has to patch him up and gives him a hard time. when hoffmans sick adam is suddenly making his grandma's chicken noodle soup recipe that he's had memorized since he was 10, sticking a thermometer in his mouth, and demanding that he drink This Much Water Today (as a person who has been poor my entire life. We know how to take care of sick people better than anyone i swear to god.)

26) What sacrifices do they make for the other?

in character terms hoffman sacrifices some of his hard edge and adam sacrifices some of his humanity. adam dulls hoffman down A Little and hoffman sharpens adam A Lot. in general i think id describe some of their sacrifices as like. just learning how to interact with each other. theyve got to adjust how they behave with each other because they both trust Slowly. if that makes any sense at fucking all

[writernopal]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you @mariahwritesstuff for the tag, find her post here.

Tagging: @thesyntheticwanderer @autumnalwalker @amywrites256 @florraisons @starliight-whump @kyuukhya (gently) @lynnedwardswrites (gently) and anyone else who wants to join in!

My words (that I have to find): beautiful, love, time, and worry

Your words (that the people I tagged find): threshold, passion, empire, serve

Snippets come from AASOAF 1 ☺️

beautiful

Her head slid to one side and her hood slipped off to reveal her messy hair. I scoffed a small laugh. Every time I had seen her, she was so put together, so seeing her with a tangled nest upon her head instead of the neat bun she usually sported was comical. She was a mess though I supposed that wasn’t her fault. Most humans looked ugly and unkempt in the morning, even beautiful ones like her, rather a fault of her kind. I studied her face next; it was set in a neutral expression, and now that it was, I could appreciate the gentle slope of her nose and how softly rounded it was at the end. It was charming. Most women in The Empire prided themselves on having long slim snouts and thought that human women's faces were squished and ugly since they usually had small noses. But Mariel wore it well, in my opinion.

love

I scoffed. I so boldly claimed I wasn’t in love back there but now I was beginning to doubt myself. Was I? I kept telling myself I wasn’t because it felt so different from what I had with Ophelia. We hadn’t even kissed or held hands and definitely hadn’t done the other thing, so how could I be sure I was in love with her? And even though I knew who she was, I didn’t know her. I knew nothing about her life growing up, whether she had siblings, her fears and joys, her dreams and aspirations, or even the small things like her favorite food, none of it. She was practically a stranger in that aspect. So why, then? Why was I so drawn to her? Why did I try to find her wherever I went? I said that I needed her. Was that a slip of the tongue? Or was there truth in that? And if there was, why was I so adamant that she should be with me? What if we were rotten together? I sighed again. So many questions would they ever be answered? Maybe not.

time

Just some feet away walked that lavender lizard. He was unaccompanied this time but still looked terrifying as he had that day. I watched him walk among the crowd toward the harbor at an even but quick pace—no doubt, he was returning to his cursed vessel. However, as I watched him, I was struck by how he didn’t shove people out of the way or demand space in a rude manner. He simply slipped and slinked among them as a snake might through a pile of leaves effortlessly and efficiently. I suppose I could infer that being among such rabble might be expected for him if his ship came to dock reasonably often. I only hoped that it didn’t come to dock here fairly often.

worry

I rose to my feet and approached my vanity. I should have been trembling or crying and telling myself that I shouldn’t do this, but there was nothing. I was devoid of any sort of rational thought but also of any considerate feeling. I watched as I pulled open the drawer and picked up the small glass bottle. Its occupant buzzed frantically within its prison. I know exactly how you feel but don’t worry; it's almost over. Soon we would both rest in a place where the terror we felt now would seem like nothing more than a distant dream. Perhaps we might look upon it fondly as the time when we were capable of such a feeling.

[valiantsword]

     the fork in his hand is doing less stabbing and more pushing things around the plate.  a piece of brat or two has managed to make it into his mouth since they’d gotten out of the shower but, overall, arthur was being much slower attacking the food than astoria.  considering everything that transpired over the evening, though, he supposes he expended much less energy than she.  what exactly happened when he came back to life?  was that energy?  should he be more hungry than he was?  odd questions he had considering how long he’d been doing this.  but, then, questions wouldn’t really get him anywhere since even andy didn’t have answers to any of the ones she’d considered in her much longer lifespan.

     such a strange concept she has.  another piece of his meal finally makes it past his lips when astoria calls him a storm.  as he chews his hand goes out, fingers splaying to the sides as if he might be able to see the waves within.  was that it?  growing up by the sea.  “ my mother used to call me a tempest.  mostly when i was angry.  of all of us i was the most even-keeled but no one considered myrddin.  nothing phased him.  always too deep in his head being several steps out. “  arthur shakes his head and feels wet strands tickle against the sides of his neck.  it grounds him back down as he listens further.

     sadness wells in him at the idea she’d never felt safe.  everyone should have at least  one person who made them feel that way.   he’d been blessed with three.  although, that safety felt different with each of them it was there nonetheless.  for some reason he can’t help but wonder of her guardians, then.  disappeared.  also the exile from ireland.  arthur can’t help but wonder if they’re related.  both subjects feel a fraction too personal to ask about even if they both wanted to be open about secrets.  he could ask but instinct tells him to let it alone.  it comes up when it comes up and he hardly thinks he’s going to bite him in the ass while they’re looking for an old book.  maybe at her farm, then, while they’re dancing naked under the stars and he’s chopping down wood to keep them warm while they do it.

     rude as it felt, the mental image makes him grin.  the fork makes a few last efforts to provide him with nourishment before he decides to abandon the plate altogether.  he’s really not as hungry as he should be.

     “ that sounds like a good compromise, then. “  i like that i sleep better with you than i ever have alone.  he’s not sure why the words hit him again but, they do.  thinking about sharing a space with someone else for the first time in as long as he can remember because that is most definitely not the same thing as occupying the same safe house with the rest of the guard.  am image of lancelot strikes through his heart like an arrow.  crawling in to bed while gwen is off in the kitchens.  was it somewhere else?  he can’t remember now where she’d been off to but he remembers, vividly, being exhausted down to his soul.  lancelot held out his arms like an awaiting angel and arthur slid right in as if their bodies were made to click perfectly.

     tell me, the other said simply.  no demand.  no expectation.  just an invitation to unload the current weight of the world without judgment.  at first he hadn’t planned to.  all arthur remembers wanting is sleep.  the warmth of his lover’s skin a balm to whatever had been bothering him.  but they also had a pact of honesty between them with the reasoning it would be the only way a balance of three lives could work.  so, arthur rolled over in lancelot’s arms to put his head on the knight’s chest and unloaded whatever emotional weight had been an anchor.  a fight with his sister?  or maybe a lament on how their youngest brother had absolutely no ambition for a god damn thing.  seemed silly in the present but at the time arthur remembered worrying about what would happen after his passing.

     “ boots, i have, “ the blonde winks.  his head nods over towards the pair on his side of the bed.  more were stashed all over the world but for the sake of traveling there was only ever one pair.  that could - should - probably change if he planned on being stationary for a while.  a flutter tickles his chest.  a home?  a real god’s honest home for the first time in centuries?  possibly even beyond that.  if arthur were very serious with himself he’d say paris never felt like home.  being with michel only marginally so.  buying that apartment building was all about guilt and in no way about the preservation of emotion.  the dancer had been a beautiful blooming flower until the immortal swooped in and trampled all over his life like a soldier running to war.  this?  astoria?  felt indescribably different.  the love in him was calm and steady.  confident.  maybe it’s the waves at the edge of the beach she hears in the storm; a calm rhythm guided by a moon which very well may be her.

     “ gods no, “ arthur reaches for the nearby water to take a sip.  with the decision made to leave the food he stands, stretches up to the ceiling as far as he possibly can, then plops down right beside her.  sheets puff up around him, settling back down.  the arm closest to her maintains touch with her thigh while the other folds beneath his head.  “ mordred was my son, first off.  he was never my nephew.  his name was duran nor was he old enough to be the one to betray me when it all happened. “  blue eyes flicker across patterns in the ceiling as a point of focus.  “ she tried to kill me.  did, i guess?  technically?  bastard assassin stabbed me in the kidney then slit my throat.  then i….got back up. “  the bent arm shrugs.  “ the round table spawned from one of gwen’s ideas and included her own batch of knights.  gods, she was smart.  made a better king than i did most days.  everything i’m known for is because of her one way or another.  i’ve spent all this time thinking there was no magic but seeing you makes me wonder a lot about both nimue and myrddin.  the original sword, actually, had protective runes inscribed into it.  i wonder if that’s what you feel?  residual of some kind.  there has to be some fraction of the original blade in there somewhere despite the several times it’s been remade. “     

     the next question gives him pause.  whatever mindless pattern his finger made against her thigh stops while he thinks, then whispers,  “ why would anyone take care of a king? “  the smile is meant to indicate a rhetorical question.  he’d been alone.  simple as that.  none was there to take care of him.  “ i really don’t know.  not letting you isn’t a conscious decision.  i’ve just…been alone.  even back in my original life i was the eldest child.  leader.  taking care of myself is automatic. “

He avoids the topic of time and she knows him well enough, even so soon, to know it's deliberate. The question of death and mortality is one to come back to another day, when he's had a bit of time to get used to her knowing everything. He doesn't ask about the exile, either, and she files that away for later as well, though she'll be happy to tell him if he asks. They are, she thinks, beyond secrets now. (—disgrace to your parents. Disgrace to your coven. A search for such longevity, bordering on immortality, it's selfishness of the highest order, as is keeping that secret, and hoarding power. Had you shown even a hint of remorse perhaps we could have healed this wound but you have made it abundantly clear that you are not ashamed of your wrongdoings—)

Astoria's lips quirk up and she reaches forward, brushes a finger across the back of his hand, curled around his coffee cup. "You learn how to live," she says finally, softly. "It's easier when you're not doing it alone." Her finger slips to the underside of his wrist, settles over his pulse. Somehow, she thinks this is the most intimate they've been—her wearing his clothes, separated even temporarily by the room service cart and still finding ways to reach for each other. "You know, you sound like a storm?" She taps her finger lightly against his wrist. "It's the water in your blood. I hear it all the time. It's the same song as the last rain before a snowfall. I wish I knew another way to describe it. And at the risk of sounding as unbelievably lost over you as I am—like there's really any doubt at this point," she adds with a little snort of laughter, "—it's one of my favorite sounds in the world. I think if I listened, I could pick you out of a crowd of thousands.

"Truth is that I don't really know how to do this. I don't often feel safe with people." She's sure he understands that much. "And it's not that I think I'll get hurt. Hurt's a natural part of being alive. I just—I don't know how capable I am of it. Being honest with someone, caring about someone, it scares the shit out of me. I usually cut and run. And I'm not scared of you, of what we're doing, or what this means. I like that I know what your blood sounds like. I like that I sleep better with you than I ever have alone. I think that whatever else there is that we have to worry about, we're better together."

She's halfway to doodling their initials in the margins of her notebooks. Withdrawing her hand takes more effort than she thinks it should, and she sets her fork down in favor of curling both hands around her own cup and savoring the warmth. "Country-adjacent," she confirms with a smile. "Nineteenth-century farmhouse on nine acres of land. The last person to live there for more than a month was the woman whose husband built it. He died when she was about fifty and she stayed there another forty years. Everyone in town thought she was a witch. She absolutely was. She still haunts it—it's why I'm the first person to stay there this long. There's this gorgeous wraparound porch and it's surrounded by trees, and you can only get there by this old cobblestone road no one uses unless they're coming to see me. It's quiet. Not too far from the city, so when I need some noise I can reach it without fuss."

It's a sanctuary; she's had family visit, and a few clients of a more sensitive nature have come by to ask for her help, but by and large it's just her and the cats. She's never brought home a one night stand, never had a casual lover drop by. Even as she wonders if the house will like him, she knows it will. "We'll get you in flannel," she says with a little laugh. "Good, sturdy boots, too. Most of the land is undeveloped woodland—great for dancing naked under the moon and all that—and it's peaceful." Lonely, when it's just her. "And as long as you want to be there, it's yours. When the time comes to relocate, we can leave the states. I'm more attached to the company than the location, but you should know I'm a cat person, and I don't really see that changing." Her grin widens, and she wrinkles her nose. "Everything besides cats? I can be flexible."

There are a million more things she wants to say. She wants to tell him about what remains of her family, and that they'd love him. She wants to tell him that home will only be home if he's there, at this point, because it may have been a blink of an eye since they met but he's written himself into her bones, carved too deeply to ever extract. And she wants to thank him again for telling her, to try and make him understand that they'll find a way to deal with immortality. They should talk about the book, too, and how they plan to get it, and a thousand other things, but the last thing Astoria wants to do is get back to business when this is hanging over them. When she finishes eating and she downs the last of her coffee she scoots back on the bed and holds a hand out for him to take, so she can tug him closer. Even such a small distance between them feels unbearable.

"So." And the gravity of everything is beginning to occur to her, now, and she lets a delighted shiver shoot through her. "King Arthur, huh? Explains why your sword feels so—" She falls silent for a moment, searching for the right word. "—unique. Have any of the stories ever gotten it right?" She doesn't ask about Guinevere or Lancelot, though it strikes her suddenly that that's who they've spoken about, that Merlin was the tactician. Every conversation they've shared until now suddenly gains another layer, and she wonders how long it'll take for her to get used to it. "Should I start using a title? I feel like we should sort out just how much teasing is allowed. And for what it's worth—" Her smile widens, somehow. "—I do love being told what to do. I love a bit of authority."

It makes sense, though, that he's taken on such responsibility for so long. "Next question is," she says, voice gentle, "when was the last time you let somebody take care of you? And how much are you planning to let me do just that?"

[bangtanintotheroom]

Where is Everybody?

Hello there! So, this post here is gonna be a doozy, but I need to get some things off my chest and hopefully, I can get some answers at the end of the day.

For the last few months, I’ve noticed a significant downtick in interactions on here. And it’s not just for my blog, quite a few of my moots seem to going through the same issue as well.

On top of that, the ever-present issue of liking over reblogging seems to have just gotten worse.

The main question I want to ask is why?

I know the holidays are a busy time for many people, but compared to last year when I joined, it almost feels like a ghost town. I ask if people want to see teasers or graphics I made and out of the significant amount of followers, I only get a handful interacting, many of them my moots (ily guys so much and appreciate you mwah 💋)

I was letting it slide until I saw the amount of notes Offsite Services has been getting. Mind you, it’s a drabble collection based off of Fanservice, which judging by notes, is one of my most infamous works. Here’s a comparison:

Fanservice: 1,877 notes

Offsite Services: 180 notes with Up Close and Personal having 242 notes while “Bear” with Me only has 111 notes

You see what I mean? Offsite Services only has just under 10% of Fanservice’s notes. And they’re in the same series!

It’s bothering me because so many people for months have been asking for updates for this series. Now that I started it back up, it’s practically radio silence and it’s highly discouraging. It definitely cemented my decision to work on whatever speaks to me at the moment and not try to rush things out, only for it to get little recognition.

And to get back to the likes/reblogs issue, lately, it’s seemed like it’s worsened these last couple of months. I know there’s a lot of users who shifted here from Twitter thanks to the madness that’s been going on, but you need to understand something:

Likes do not spread our work around.

Works can get buried within tags, especially if they don’t have a large amount of notes, which makes it harder to get recognition. By reblogging, it introduces our fics to a wider audience, even if you only have a handful of followers. Believe me, it helps!

And feedback is always helpful as well! You don’t even have to write a full essay, something along the lines of ‘thank you for writing this!’ or ‘wiofwoihih this was SO GOOD’ is highly appreciated.

Also, my ask box is always open, for anons and non-anons. If you want to talk about something or just say hi or discuss a fic or WIP, don’t be shy! I might not respond right away, but that’s because I’m busy or at work. I only won’t respond if it’s a request (REQUESTS ARE CLOSED INDEFINITELY)  or someone demanding I update a fic (which hasn’t happened yet, thank God).

I don’t want to drag this on much longer, so I want to just cap this off by asking again why there’s less people interacting lately. These are the answers I came up with:

1. BTS’ hiatus (which doesn’t make sense to me because now would be the best time to catch up on fan content but 🤷🏾‍♀️)

2. Taking a break from Tumblr

3. Not enough time to read

Again, these are only my theories, but I won’t know for sure unless you guys tell me. If you know the reason why and would like to tell me, feel free to come to my ask box. All I ask is that you don’t be rude or extremely defensive; whatever reason you might have is valid and I’m not trying to start any fights. I just want some clarity to help ease this question that’s been bothering me for the last couple of months.

Thank you so much if you read all of this, I appreciate it greatly. I hope everyone has a steady 2023 and I wish you all the best. 💕

- AJ 💜

[isabunbun]

"she looks just like a dream. the prettiest girl i've ever seen." (Bucky Barnes AU Oneshot)

Sumarry: where fate happened inside a café where Y/n works and is given the stage to have a small intro to sing but stops midway as Bucky was "gossiping" with a friend and decides to call him out only to find out something that makes her blush.

Pairings: Chubby!Bucky x F!Singer!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety nothing else. All fluff and hint of comedy.

this one was inspired by a scene from the 90's tv show, 'F.R.I.E.N.D.S'. hope you guys enjoy! please tell me your thoughts after (*´ ˘ `*)

☆☆☆

"And back by popular demand, please give it up for my good friend, Y/F/N!" Natasha hosts the introduction as she hands you the mini stage in the café. People cheering for you as they all grew fond of your angelic singing voice.

You sit down on the chair, guitar in your arms as you smiled at the audience happily getting ready to play for them.

Everything was going well, people smiling, loving and enjoying your entire vibe. It fits just right in the café. The energy you radiate was enchantingly calming along with your voice.

All was well until you notice two men who to you, looks like they were "gossiping" which you take rudely considering someone, you, is on stage playing for the audience.

You wanted to leave them be but it also looked like they were talking about you and your anxiety just couldn't handle it.

Stopping mid song, you couldn't take it anymore as you speak up.

"Uh, excuse me?" You look at the two men straight as everyone looked at them too. Them looking at you now, flustered by everyone looking at them.

"Yeah, you two, noisy boys" You point them out as they looked lost and confused if they were the ones the attention is on.

"Is it something that you would like to share to the entire group?"

The two looked embarrassed. A blonde guy, Steve, answering your question.

"No.. No, that's- that's okay" Steve smiles awkwardly embarrassed to be called out.

"Well, come on. If it's important enough to discuss it while i'm playing then i assume it's important enough for everyone else to hear" You say back to him. You weren't mad at all, you were calmly calling them out since what they did was rude.

"That guy's going home with a note" Clint, your co-worker at the café says. Natasha, chuckling back at his remark.

Bucky was now sweating, he clears his throat out as everyone awaits for his excuse.

"I-I was just saying-"

"Could you speak up please?" you cut him off speaking from the mic more closely as his voice was barely audible to everyone, you also growing impatient with their act.

He stands up quickly, stumbling a bit as the table got hit by him standing up, as he fixes his blue sweater pulling it down that seemed to ride up his tummy, stuttering once again.

"I-i was just saying to my friend that i thought you were the most beautiful girl i've ever seen in my- in my uh, life..." Bucky explains, pointing out to Steve.

You sure were taken aback, not expecting his excuse. You now definitely felt bad for calling them out. Your expression changing from stern to your usual soft look, but more the look of feeling bad and realization.

He was right to be honest, your looks are another reason why you have fans in town. And how you looked the day he met you? No one could blame him for gossiping to Steve midst your play. You were wearing this white dress and had half your hair tied up. You were real pretty.

"And then, y-you said," Bucky explains further as he points and looks back at Steve again, "I-i said.." Steve says also backing him up.

"That y-you thought that Daryl Hannah was the-" , "The most beautiful girl that i've ever seen.." Steve completing Bucky's sentence out.

"And uh, while Daryl Hannah is beautiful in a- in a conventional way.. you are luminous and beautiful with uh, a kind o-of delicate grace.." Bucky confessed out. Some people somewhat giggling and cheering a bit.

"Yikes" Sam, another one of your co-worker, "loudly" comments. Cringing at the guy. Which made Bucky even more red and embarrassed.

Your mouth hung open a little the entire time, your soft look on your face shown the entire time as you nod at him slowly in understanding.

"T-then uh, that's where you started yelling." he adds lastly as he slowly sits back to his chair.

You try to bite a smile back at his last words, the two men hesitantly and awkwardly sitting together.

"Okay, we're gonna take a short break" you say to the mic as you giggle, and start to walk down the stage towards their table.

"I think that guy's going home with more than a note" Natasha chuckles out to Clint, both of them laughing out.

Up until today they still laugh about the memory of how your meeting went the first time, that led you now to a loving healthy relationship.

And Bucky stood by his words, only finding out that you were as beautiful inside as you are outside.

-end

hope you guys enjoyed that! please tell me your thoughts, comments, questions, anything! my ask box is always open. requests for characters are also open. Thank You for reading! ♡

Tags

@maluisamarvelfan123

@eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

@my-river-lilly

[tricksters-captain]

Helmut Zemo (TFATWS) imagines - Craving

AN: Okay I’ve given in and become a Zemo simp but Bucky is still my number one don't worry.

Summary: After playing the part as Zemo's arm candy in Madripoor, Zemo tries to confront you on your unspoken connection, only to be rudely interrupted...

Pairing(s): Zemo x Fem!Reader, very slight Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,326

Warnings: Some small spoilers for Ep3, lots of sexual tension 

“I still can’t believe I agreed to do this.” You grumbled as you climbed the stairs, falling behind at the fear the men could see straight up the skirt of the dress Zemo had chosen for you. 

“I, for one, think you have the easiest job of us all. James must be someone he detests, Sam must be a notorious criminal he doesn’t know and you must sit and look pretty.” Zemo spoke under his breath as you came to the entrance of Selby’s HQ. 

You glared at the man but he didn’t care. He was too busy worrying about Selby. 

The door was opened for you by one of Selby’s men. Zemo nodded curtly at the guard before entering. 

You went ahead of Bucky and Sam to stay close to Zemo, following your role as his current inamorata. 

It was a short walk into Selby’s office but with every step you could feel the fear rising in your chest. You weren’t convinced that you’d get away with this; Sam wasn't exactly the most kosher criminal and Zemo’s story didn’t quite add up on just how he managed to have the Winter Soldier in his mitts again. 

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Selby spoke as she came into view. She was an expensively dressed woman with a short white pixie cut. 

Zemo sat down opposite her but you remained next to Sam. 

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo waved his finger as he spoke. It was a small yet dominant motion directed towards you. You tried not to clench your jaw as you walked towards him. 

“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Selby’s eyes followed your every move as you made your way over to Zemo. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo held out his hand to you, guiding you to stand behind him.  “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.” 

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby cocked her head towards Sam. 

Sam’s only response was a quick nod of his head. Selby purred at Sam, a wolfish smile on her face. 

“What’s the offer?” Selby turned back to Zemo. Her eyes flickered up to you before landing back on Zemo’s face. You weren’t stupid you knew what her gaze meant. 

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum.” Zemo pushed himself out of his chair. You watched him cross behind Bucky, placing his hands on Bucky's shoulders. “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.” 

Selby grinned widely as Zemo wobbled Bucky’s chin with his forefinger and thumb, showing just how under control the ‘Winter Soldier’ was. 

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately.” Selby seemed to be convinced. “Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right.”

Zemo returned to his seat before Selby continued. 

“The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or... condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but... things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked. 

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” Selby rose from her chair, finding a place beside Sam as she very openly let her eyes roll down your body now that you were in her full view. 

“What else do you desire?” Zemo questioned. He had clocked onto Selby’s behaviour and didn’t really need to ask to know what the answer was going to be.  

“Her.” Selby pointed you out. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she awaited Zemo’s response. 

“No, no, no.” Zemo tutted, holding out his hand for you to take. “This little bird only sings for me.” Zemo guided you round the side of his chair and pulled you gently onto his lap. You crossed your legs as you tried not to seem uncomfortable. The scent of the Baron’s cologne, mixed with his strong grip on your waist was making your heart race. You had never been this close to Zemo before and now you were sat on his knee with his arm around you. 

“Well, you’ll make her sing for me or you won’t be getting what you want now, Baron, will ya?” Selby wasn’t playing games. She folded her arms across her chest, cocking her eyebrows at Zemo. 

Zemo titled his head as he thought. 

You felt yourself tense up when he placed a cool leather clad hand on your thigh. His fingers started to draw circles on your skin, edging your skirt higher, drawing Selby’s eyes down to your legs. 

“She is very dear to me.” Zemo stated. He retracted his hand from your thigh to brush your hair from your shoulder, his finger traced a line from your jaw down your neck to your collarbone. Zemo, being so close, could see the goosebumps that covered your skin at his touch.  

“Unless you have something better to offer other than your two play things, Baron, I suggest you hand them over to me... unless you don’t want the whereabouts of Dr Nagel.” Selby let her smile drop. 

“I will––” Zemo was cut short by Sam’s phone going off. 

“Answer it.” Selby suddenly lost all interest in the deal and only desired to prove the authenticity of the Smiling Tiger. “On speaker.” 

That’s where things went wrong. 

For the rest of the trip in Madripoor, you didn’t get the time to confront yourself and Zemo on what happened back there. 

You were so confused to why you reacted the way you did. You had never been attracted to Zemo before but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he smelt, the way his breath tickled against your arm, the way the heat radiated out from under his thick coat. 

You knew he was thinking about it too. 

Every time you let yourself glance over at him, he was watching you and not in the same way as he usually would. You knew too well that Zemo often studied his surroundings like a hawk. He was silent and observant; he always knew where he would go next and he often watched you, Sam and Bucky as if he were calculating your next moves. 

It wasn’t until you arrived in Latvia that you were confronted by your feelings again. 

You were sat at the island in the kitchen as you ran your hands over your face and hair. You were tired. 

“You should rest.” Zemo’s voice suddenly snuck up on you. 

He had been so quiet walking into the kitchen that you hadn't even noticed he was there. 

“I should but insomnia kinda comes with the job.” You sat up, trying not to act any different from how you usually would. 

“Ah. My time in a cell has acquainted me with such the dilemma.” Zemo confessed as he moved towards the cupboards on the back wall. 

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t help but watch his hands as they reached for the coffee pot, his fingers gripping it lightly. You could still recall the feeling of the cool leather on your thigh, his touch climbing higher as he pushed your skirt up...

“Coffee?” Zemo offered, interrupting your thoughts as he raised a mug and an eyebrow at you. 

“Please.” You folded your hands together as you leant on the island. 

There was a brief comfortable silence as Zemo fixed up some coffee for you both. He could feel your eyes on him but he didn’t say anything. He just let the corner of his lips tugged into a smirk as he poured you a cup. He let the smirk drop when he turned to face you.

He slid the cup along the countertop and you thanked him quietly. He pushed a thin smile onto his face for a second before returning to his usual stoic expression. 

“There was something I wished to discuss with you actually.” Zemo announced as he picked up his own cup. 

You almost choked on your drink at the words but you hid behind your mug, hoping he didn’t notice. He did.

“About what?” You asked. 

“I wanted to apologise for Madripoor.” Zemo surprised you with that. 

“Apologise?” You were confused to what he was talking about. 

“I am aware that it was merely a role, that we were undercover, but I touched you without your consent. I wanted to apologise for when we were with Selby.”

You were completely shocked. You didn’t not expect this from Zemo at all. 

“It’s okay. We all have to do stuff we don't want to do on missions like these.” You tried to brush it off. After all, Bucky had to become the Winter Soldier and Sam had to drink a cobra’s heart back in Madripoor. There was definitely worse things that could’ve happened. 

“I never said I didn’t want to do it. I am simply apologising for not asking for permission first.” Zemo’s eyes were glued to your face as he sipped his coffee. He was watching for a reaction. 

You felt your mouth go dry, you tried to swallow as you began to rise from your seat. 

“Uh, t-thanks for the coffee, Zemo but...” You tried grabbing your mug but you only knocked it to the floor by accident. 

“Shit!” You hissed as you bent down, picking up the broken bits. You felt your heart racing from the look Zemo had just given you.

Zemo rushed around the island with a rag, he placed it over the split coffee before taking hold of your wrist to stop you from picking up the pieces. 

Electricity shot up your arm and your head snapped up to meet his eyes. 

“No use crying over spilt coffee.” Zemo muttered, a smile tugging on one corner of his mouth. 

“I-I wasn’t––”

“––Is there a particular reason you are so jumpy tonight?” Zemo inquired. 

You rose back to standing; Zemo let your wrist go as you did but followed your action. 

The air was thick between you as you withheld your answer. 

There was no way you could admit you were worried of being close to him because of the undeniable pull he had on you since that night. 

“I think...” Zemo stepped over the soaked rag which only made you take a step back. “...You enjoyed being touched and now you are confused to why.”

Your chest began to rise and fall heavily as Zemo continued to walk towards you until your back hit the wall behind you. 

“But forgive me if I am wrong.” Zemo held his hands up with a smile, taking his final few steps until he was close enough for his cologne to engulf the air around you.

“You are.” You whispered but your voice had failed you in sounding convincing. 

“Is that right, little bird?” Zemo used the pet name he had given you in Selby's office. He lifted his hand to brush your hair from your cheek behind your ear. “Because I believe you haven’t stop thinking about it. Just as I haven't.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You only just breathed out your words. If Zemo hadn’t been so close, he wouldn’t have heard them. 

“Don’t you?” Zemo titled his head at you. “Because I am at liberty to remind you that I once worked for Sokivian intelligence. It was my job for a long time to study people, learn them, read them.” Zemo let his eyes drop down to your body before coming back to meet your eyes. “I can tell how a person is feeling just from observing their body. The way they move. The way they are breathing.” Zemo placed his hand in the centre of your chest where your silver necklace sat. The metal burned against your skin underneath Zemo’s warm flesh. 

Your slow deep breaths lifted Zemo’s hand up and down as you stared back at him. 

“I can feel your heart racing.” Zemo uttered. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” You shook your head as your eyes flickered to the man’s lip for just a second. 

“Good.” Zemo smirked. 

Suddenly Zemo was ripped away from you. 

Bucky had teared Zemo back and pushed him across the room. Zemo staggered backwards before standing and adjusting his sweater from how Bucky had grabbed him. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bucky growled at Zemo with a look in his eye that could kill. 

“I was merely having a conversation with (Y/n).” Zemo shrugged, acting as if everything was perfectly innocent. 

“Oh yeah it looked like a real polite conversation with (Y/n) backed up in a corner and your hands on her!” Sam was stood behind Bucky. The both of them were squaring up in front of Zemo to protect you. 

“I didn’t need your help.” You stepped forward, trying to intervene. 

“You put your hands on her again; I won’t stop myself next time. I’ll turn you into a new coat.” Bucky warned Zemo as he ignored you. 

“I apologise.” Zemo lifted his hands up in defence. 

“No.” Sam pointed back to you. “Apologise to her.” 

Zemo turned his head to you. When your eyes met, he smirked just ever so slightly, you knew the boys didn’t notice at least. 

“I apologise, (Y/n).” The way your name sounded in Zemo’s mouth made your stomach flip. 

“It’s fine.” You said before pushing past Bucky and Sam. You hated it when they played protective big brothers and you didn’t even need saving... You think...

(PART 2)