#everyone else is supposed to instantly forgive them

[sketching-shark]

One of the most annoying things about contemporary “redemption arcs” is that they’re not actually redemption arcs but just a villain getting graphically tortured by another villain.

[chosok-amo]

I DARE YOU .ᐟ

BABYSITTER‘S PUNISHMENT : TOJI FUSHIGURO

when you tryna steal from toji to only end up getting fucked by him.

CONTENT WARNING : smut! toji, rough sex, spanking.

P.S this is from toji's pov

ever since my marriage fell apart, and my bitch of an ex-wife (pretend it's not megumi's mom) left me for some hunky personal trainer, I’ve been a little short-tempered. you see, we had built a home together and raised a beautiful son, megumi, who I love more than anything else in the world. we had a gorgeous house in the suburbs, complete with a swimming pool and a large garden with a playground for megumi to entertain himself. I couldn’t have asked for a better home to start a family. so when the aforementioned whore decided to destroy our family, my spirits were crushed and I started to lash out on everyone around me. my secretary at the office was the first to feel my wrath, as I blamed her for every little thing that went wrong, whether it was her fault or not. she was forgiving, though, and ignored my raging temper.

then, I started to shout at people while I was driving, frequently cursing other motorists and swerving erratically so I could make obscene hand gestures at them. I never lashed out at my daughter, I should add. no, she was the one thing that gave me joy in those dark times. a few months after the divorce proceedings, my wife’s ridiculous relationship with her new boyfriend imploded on itself and she came crawling back. I was having none of it and made sure she stayed away.

of course, with the bitch out of the picture I needed some help to look after Megumi whenever I worked late or had to attend meetings at weekends. Luckily, I managed to find a perfect babysitter whose situation suited all of my needs. She was free to work practically every evening and was able to pick up Megumi from school, take him home, feed him, and put him to bed before I even got back. It was an ideal arrangement, not just because of her seemingly constant availability, but because she was absolutely smoking hot. When I interviewed her for the position, I had to keep pulling my eyes away from her chest. Her juicy, round breasts were pressed up against the fabric of her shirt, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra as I could see two prominent bumps at nipple height.

Her name was Y/n, and her cute smile and flowing hair instantly made the blood rush to my cock. I hired her on the spot, and ever since that day I reveled in the sight of her perky ass whenever I returned home. I could hardly believe my luck— she was stunning, she also got on very well with Megumi and seemed to be totally professional in her duties. However, my opinion of her changed somewhat when I discovered a truth about her that sent me into a rage.

It all happened one day when I was supposed to be working late. I had arranged for her to pick up Megumi as usual and I was set to return home around 10 P.M that night. y/n was totally obliging and supportive, and so the evening seemed to be set. As it turned out I finished work an hour earlier than I’d expected as the person I was supposed to be having a video conference call with didn’t show up. So, I headed home in a somewhat disgruntled and annoyed state. I pulled up at the front of the house, got out of the car, and walked up to the door.

My bedroom light seemed to be turned on, which was strange as I always made sure to turn lights off whenever I left a room— my OCD-like behavior was one of the things my ex-wife hated the most about me. I thought nothing of it and continued up the garden path to the front door. As I walked inside I looked into the living room and then the kitchen. There was no sign of y/n or Megumi, so I assumed that she was busy putting my son to bed. I walked around on my tip-toes for a while, removing my jacket while I got a drink of water from the tap.

Finally, I decided to go up and get changed, so I snuck up the stairs. Megumi’s bedroom door was slightly ajar, but his light was turned off. I thought maybe the lamp should have been on if y/n was in there. I looked at my bedroom door and again saw the light was turned on. I made my way to the door and pushed it open gently as the suspicion flooded my mind.

I peered inside and saw y/n’s ass wiggling around at me as she bent underneath the bed. She was rooting around for something, and when I saw her bag next to her with a small candle-stick holder poking out, I realized she was stealing things from my room. I was horrified that I had let such a criminal into my house and left her alone with my precious son.  However, the sight of her ass moving around turned my anger into something else. Within a matter of seconds, I could feel my cock getting harder.

She hadn’t noticed I was back yet, as her head was well and truly under the bed as she searched for items to plunder. I watched for a few seconds as the rage built inside me, and then stepped inside, closing the door shut as quietly as I could. I crouched behind her and watched for a moment, contemplating the best course of action. The blood was rushing out of my brain to my cock, though, so there was only really one thing on my mind. I knew exactly how to punish her.

”What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I said in a stern voice. She froze and then shuddered as she realised she had been caught. It must have been a massive shock to her system, as she didn’t say a word for what seemed like an eternity. I repeated myself, and then grabbed her feet and dragged her out from under the bed. She tried to claw the carpet to stop me but I was far too strong. As her head appeared from under the bed, she looked up at me with pleading eyes, no doubt presuming she could buy her way out of the situation with a suggestive wink and a squeeze of her breasts. Such leniency was most definitely not on the table, though. I grabbed her arms and pulled her up to her feet, and then turned her around and forced her up against the bed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!“ she kept repeating, but I wasn’t listening.

“You think you can steal from me?” I scowled, pushing her back down on to the bed as she tried to stand up again. Her ass stuck out as she bent over the side of the bed and I continued “I’ll teach you not to steal from me!”

“What are you going to do with me?” she pleaded, but as she looked back she already knew what I had in mind for her. I kept her chest firmly pressed down on the duvet and raised my hand up above her ass, striking it down with a loud crash. She yelped in horror as I spanked her ass, but I kept going, slapping each cheek over and over again. She tried to push herself up, but I just pushed her back down. She kept resisting, so I grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back, holding them in place with one hand while I continued to spank the naughty bitch. She winced and groaned with every hit that thrashed across her ass, but I didn’t feel like she had nearly learned her lesson.

“Are you sorry?” I growled, finding myself getting more and more turned on by her whimpering. Her screams to be let go almost sounded sexual in nature, as if the spanking was turning her on more than it was hurting her.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she cried, repeating it after every strike that landed over her ass. My cock was rock hard and almost bulging from my trousers. Then I had a much better thought of how to punish her more effectively. I pulled her back up and stood her at the side of the bed, letting go of her arms as I wrapped mine around her chest, constraining her movement completely. She wiggled her body to loosen herself from my grasp, but my arms were far too strong. I ran my hands over her stomach, feeling the material of her vest top as I moved higher and higher towards her breasts.

Once again she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples were poking out firmly through her top. I groped at them and squeezed the warm, fleshy lumps in my fingers as she squirmed around in my arms. No doubt she could feel my massive, hard cock rubbing against her ass cheeks as I held her breathlessly close. I could smell the shampoo she had used to wash her hair that day, as the warmth of her body rose up from the top of her head. I was so turned on, I started to pinch her pert nipples and slap the sides of her tits. She cried out loudly, so I placed the palm of my hand over her mouth to silence her, and then moved it down to her neck and squeezed firmly and menacingly at her windpipe.

“Ssshhh!” I whispered as I continued to fondle her tits, digging my fingers into her skin as I enjoyed the feel of her supple mounds. She could feel my breath on her neck as I leaned in and stared down her cleavage, watching her delicious breasts wobbling around in my fingers. They truly felt fantastic, and I would have happily stayed there for hours playing with them, had it not been for her constant struggling.

“I’m not done with you yet!” I said as she tried to bolt for the door. I pulled her back, grasping at her waist as I pushed her back down on to the bed. She squealed for mercy as I climbed on top of her back, and then started to peel her top up over her head. I pulled her arms up and held them above her head while I pulled the vest up and discarded it on the floor. She lay on the bed with her arms wrapped under her chest, preserving her modesty. I wanted to see those juicy tits, though, so I rolled her on to her back and pulled her arms open to expose them.

They were even more beautiful in the flesh than I had imagined – perfectly round and just enough to fit in my hands. I held her down and started to fondle them some more, rolling my thumbs around her nipples and pinching them sharply as I pulled them away from her body. Then I began to slap them from side to side, and as I watched them repeatedly jiggling back into position, my cock became almost painfully hard. She spat in my face, with a small blob of saliva landing on the side of my cheek. I wiped it away carefully and stared gruffly in to her eyes, and then slapped her across the face.

She recoiled in horror, turning her head away for a moment before looking back at me. A tear formed in her eye, but she was clearly excited on a sexual level. She was fighting the urge to shoot me a wry, dirty smile. I slapped her again, firmer and faster that time and across the other cheek. I slapped her a few more times, making her cheeks red from the impact of my hands. Saliva spilled out over her face, and I let go of her body for a moment while I undid my tie.

She watched me remove it, trembling on the bed and glancing at the door to plan her escape route. She wasn’t going anywhere, though, and I rolled her on to her back again and forced her wrists together. I wrapped the tie around them, binding her arms securely so I could have some fun. I slowly removed my shirt as I watched her ass shuffling off the edge of the bed, and pressed my foot on to it to keep her from moving any further.

Her ears pricked up when she heard the jangle of my belt buckle as I unfastened it, removing my trousers and boxer shorts to free the enormous, throbbing cock within. With all of my clothes nestled in a small heap on the carpet, I crouched behind her and started to feel her ass through her tight jeans, smelling the crack and running my fingers in between her legs as she moaned lightly.

I couldn’t wait to see her bare ass, so I reached underneath her waist and unzipped the denim flaps, before yanking the jeans down her legs to reveal her sexy little thong. I pulled the jeans away, turning them inside out as they gripped to her legs. She remained huddled over the bed, and I leaned in and felt the warm skin as I pressed my lips up to her ass cheeks.

I gripped the sides of her thong and peeled it down her legs, allowing it to rest around her knees while I moved back up to play with her ass some more. She was still making the occasional move to get away, and each time she bolted I lashed a fresh smack over her now bare ass cheeks. Red hand marks started to form on the soft, delicate skin as I peeled them apart; exposing her tight little anus and her dripping wet labia below.

There was no doubt in my mind that she was gagging for it. I buried my face between her legs and began to lick passionately around her pussy, lapping up her juices as she groaned with pleasure. I continued to spank her, and every time I cracked my hands over her ass, she let out a fresh painful shriek. As I ate her out, I moved my hand up and started to massage her clitoris with my fingers, rubbing her flowing juices all over it as I flicked my tongue over her pulsating vulva.

I moved up and began to lick at her ass hole, prodding my tense tongue around the incredibly soft puckering rim. I lapped up and down her crack, pulling her cheeks as far apart as they would stretch and causing her anus to open up slightly. I spanked her again, even harder and she whimpered pathetically. Then I had a fantastic idea.

I untangled my belt from the waist of my trousers and looped it around. She looked back and gulped, bracing herself for what she knew was to come. I pressed her firmly down on to the bed, pushing her arms even tighter against her back, and then I thrashed her ass with the belt. A thunderous crack sounded out and echoed off the walls as she squealed in agony. I didn’t wait for the pain to subside, and immediately lashed her again and again. Her ass was red raw and started to turn purple as faint blotches of bruising appeared. I moved down and smacked it over the backs of her thighs, each impact sending a fresh set of ripples rolling over her flesh.

“Are you sorry? I don’t believe you!” I kept stating, not letting her answer. She could barely speak through her agonised groans, but her pussy was wetter than ever. I dropped the belt on the floor and positioned myself behind her ass. As the pain subsided, she started to sigh with relief. I pushed the head of my cock up to her pussy lips, rolling it up and down between them before plunging my rigid girth deep inside her.

She gasped and strained her neck out in front of her as she let out a loud, ecstatic moan. I started to thrust it in and out of her pussy, slowly at first as I coated it in her pussy juices, and then faster and harder as I became better lubricated. Her labia stretched around it nicely, contorting sideways as my penis passed through them. As I fucked her I continued to spank her ass, causing her to yelp in between her breathless panting. The sight of her arms bound behind her back had transformed me in to a wanton sex beast, and I didn’t care about anything other than fucking her as hard as I could. Every single other thought and consideration in my life was second to brutalising her and obliterating her pussy right there and then.

I pounded her as hard as I could, still bending her over the side of the bed. Her head rocked back and forth on the duvet helplessly under the force of my powerful thrusts, and she had given up trying to get away. She had become completely obedient and was accepting her punishment gracefully. I quickly tired of fucking her from behind though, and I desperately wanted to play with those glorious tits some more, so I flipped her over on to her back again.

She grimaced as her weight shifted, trapping her arms underneath her body. There wasn’t time to untie her, though. She would just have to get used it. I grabbed her throat and squeezed, choking her for a moment as I kissed her lips, stroking her tongue with mine and smelling her sweet candy breath. My cock was throbbing like crazy, so I pushed it back inside her pussy once again and instantly began to fuck her vigorously as she bounced up and down on the spring mattress.

The springs in the bed were creaking like crazy under the weight of our bodies. I grabbed her legs and placed them flat against my chest with her ankles behind my ears, and watched my cock sliding deep inside her over and over again while her amazing sweet tits bounced around atop her chest. I pressed her legs forward and reached down to slap her breasts again, and she screwed up her face with every strike that landed across her soft skin.

The sound of my skin slapping against hers was almost as loud as the spanking I had given her earlier. We were both sweating and writhing together as I pushed her further onto the bed with each thrust. My cock was buried entirely within her pussy, penetrating her all the way down to my balls as she groaned in uncontrollable pleasure. I doubt she had ever received such a strenuous fucking, but she was loving every second of it.

I spread her legs wide open and leaned down to kiss her neck passionately, smelling the hair under her ears as my moist lips pressed up to her skin. The sound of her panting in to my ear just turned me on even more, and after a minute or so I could hear the unmistakeable noise of an impending orgasm. She wheezed and cried out in ecstasy as her hips began to tremble, and then all of a sudden the extreme pleasure took hold of her and her eyes rolled into the back of her skull.

I continued to pound her even harder, relentlessly fucking her wet pussy as she squirmed with gratification on the bed. It was only when she came down from her breathless climax that I remembered I was supposed to be punishing her.

She went limp on the duvet and tried to catch her breath while I pressed her thighs up to her chest, exposing her insanely tight little ass hole. I didn’t want to have to keep struggling with her, so I took the belt and quickly wrapped around her legs, fastening it just under her knees and binding them up to her chest. She hadn’t even noticed what I was doing as she was still coping with the aftershocks of her intense climax.

I crouched in front of her ass again and pushed her cheeks slightly further open— they were already well parted by the position of her legs. Her vaginal muscles were still contracting and causing her labia to pucker up as I leaned in. I stretched out my tongue and licked over her anus once again, tasting the pussy juices as they flowed from her vulva and down through her ass crack.

Her cheeks were still red raw and burning with pain, but I continued to lightly spank them as I licked around her ass hole, prodding my tongue against her rim for a little while. I ran my finger around her pussy lips, lubricating it in her juices before pushing it through her sphincter. She tensed up as she finally realised what I was doing, and started to grimace and moan anxiously. I slid my finger inside her ass hole and pulled it out repeatedly, watching as her hole enclosed around it.

I stood up between her legs and rubbed the head of my cock around her quivering, wet vulva for a moment, coating it in a mixture of spit and her juices as I had done with my finger. I pushed my dick up to her ass hole and started to nudge it gently through the small opening. Her rim stretched around my cock as I pushed it through, expanding the soft ripples of her anus to a smooth, gaping hole.

The juices and saliva squelched out around the sides of my cock under the intense pressure of her tight anus as I started to thrust it in to her rectum, tunnelling my way deeper and deeper inside. With each insertion I was able to gain an extra quarter of an inch and after a minute or so of gruelling ass fucking I was burying my cock balls-deep in her colon. “Ah fuck, yes Toji— shit shit, ahh! fuck me like I'm a slut!” She started to scream loudly with each thrust that I slammed in to her ass, so I slapped her face again, sending a trail of saliva across the bed. She continued to groan noisily despite my defiant slapping, giving me no option but to silence her.

I reached down to the floor and picked up her thong, rolling it in to a tight ball as I jammed it between her jaws. She tried to clamp them together, but I squeezed firmly at her cheeks to pry them open and wedged the screwed up knickers between her teeth, holding my hand over her mouth and pressing her head back down to the bed as I continued to destroy her ass hole. I heard her trying to squeal in pain as my cock slid in and out of her anus, but the sound was nicely muffled by my makeshift gag.

I knew the ultra-tight young ass hole was going to make me cum soon, so I fucked her even harder and a few moments later I felt a great swell inside my balls. I moaned and stretched my neck, and she could see the veins protruding from the skin on my neck as I started to pump my hot, milky semen deep in to her ass hole. The orgasm seemed to last for hours and the cum shot out of my cock endlessly, oozing out between the sides of my shaft and the walls of her rectum.

I removed my penis from her ass and watched the thick, white fluid seeping out of her asshole. It was too hot of a moment not to get at least a souvenir, so I picked up my phone and took a few pictures of her hot, naked body and her obliterated pussy and ass hole.

“So, have you learned your lesson?” I asked, leaning over her exhausted body as I unstrapped the belt and freed her arms from behind her back. Her skin was marked with red lines from the various spankings and the force of being tied up so tightly. She laughed and said “I’ll have to steal from you again as I enjoyed the punishment,” she smiled sweetly.

“Good. So, same time tomorrow?” I said, helping her to stand up from the bed. Her legs were like jelly and barely supported her weight as she rose to her feet.

“Yes sir.” she said in a subdued but slightly naughty fashion. She tried to hide her smile as she reached for her clothes, but I caught it regardless. I was worried that I had lost a great babysitter, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Not only did I retain her as a babysitter, I gained her as a slave and that first encounter was just the tip of the iceberg.

[useeer]

Dance with me?

Venture, aka Sloan Cameron x reader

You're at your friends wedding, and somehow meet the cutest damn person in the world.

Tags: fluff, strong language, slight sexual innuendo

Enjoy!!

[Note: I haven't written a fic in 192739 yrs, and my ass hasn't been to a wedding since I was 10 so forgive my ignorance abt how they go!!]

You weren't exactly a party person.

Parties are loud, crowded and really socially taxing. While yes, you'd attend parties here and there; mostly birthdays or accomplishments for friends and family. It still wasn't your favorite thing to do. You are actually pretty upfront with others about how little social interaction you can handle. That being said... fear of disappointing your friends usually got the better of you. They were fine, partying was fun. 

Honestly, you'd be lying to everyone if you said you weren't thinking about your soft, cozy bed. Or how you were daydreaming about cuddling up to your pets and watching silly videos. Not even this beautiful wedding could curb your introvert nature.

It's evening now, the golden rays barely peeking over the horizon as it descends. A sweet, cool autumn breeze blows, ruffling your clothes and hair. A welcome comfort on this warm night.

The setting is truly beautiful. Soft, golden glowing lanterns are strung along the edges of the venue. Lush green plants in decorative pots line the edges. The pillars, stone and brick, are painted in the gentle glow of the lamps and lanterns. The style...is Greek? At least you think it's Greek. If someone told you otherwise, though, you'd take their word for it. Especially since half the people here are from the Wayfinder Society, all attending as friends of the groom. The wayfinders are sprinkled around the venue, chatting about and having a grand old time.

You? No such luck, you're only attending for your friend, who happens to be the other groom. While you know a handful of people, and did polite chit chat with them, you mostly stuck to yourself. Actually, that's a lie, you mostly stuck to the snack table. You're leaning by the side of it, plate in hand, trying just about anything there. I mean, what else are you supposed to do? 

While eating a particularly good cube of cheese, you let your eyes wander the room. You see a group of people laughing, another group chattering amongst themselves, one enthusiastically waving their hands in the air, seemingly very passionate about the subject. You snort, amused. Drifting eyes finally move over to the husbands, who were talking to an older couple, a quick hug is given here and there. 

Man. You were bored.

You weren't trying to be disrespectful here, you just didn't know anyone. Subconsciously, your leg starts bouncing, your thoughts dance to your fluffy, comfy bed. Reaching down for another snack on your plate, you’re disappointed to see they're all gone. Frowning a bit, you look over the table to see if there's anything else you'd like to try.

And boy, was there. The chocolate hair, the hazel skin, your eyes instantly locked onto the person plating their own food. They're dressed in a white button down, and black slacks, the sleeves of their dress shirt hugging them favorably. They even had a cute little yellow bowtie on. You couldn't tell their pronouns, so you figure you'd ask if you ever spoke. Which you weren't, you didn't want to intrude. They looked to be the same person absolutely raving earlier, you'd hate to keep them from it.

If they wanna speak to me, they will. You thought distantly, watching their hands as they pluck up a cupcake. 

Workers' hands. You mused, they seemed rough, and strong. They must be one of those Wayfinders. Your eyes trail their fingers, the back of their hand, man...they have really nice hands. Unbeknownst to you, your staring hasn't gone unnoticed. Their hands stills, just before the confectionery hits the plate. 

"Uhm... did you want this one?" They ask someone, curious, you look up to see who they're talking to. You finally get to see their face properly, and man they're gorgeous. Too bad you didn't have time to appreciate that fact, as your eyes instantly locked with theirs. You realize a little too late that you're the one they're talking to.

"Huh." Is all you manage to get out, unsure what the fuck to say to this stranger.

"The...cupcake?" They say, motioning it towards you. "Did you want it? You're staring at it like you want it." They say, clearly confused by the way you ogled their food.

"No- no I don't want it. I'm so sorry, ignore me." You cover your face and wave a hand in their direction, this is the worst thing you've ever done. Your face and ears burn in red hot embarrassment, you're just lucky they thought all you wanted was the damn cupcake.

They seem to find it a little funny now, how you're running away from the cupcake you were practically stalking as it left the platter. "Okayyyy, well then this is mine!" They joke, putting it onto their plate before strutting away, seemingly unperturbed by your god awful screw up.

God, you needed to sit down. 

You're practically on fire, feeling like you're gonna break into a sweat. Shakily, you find a chair in a less populated area and take a seat. You bend over, putting your face in your hands and elbows on your knees, as if trying to hide yourself. While you know, reasonably, that this isn't the end of the world, you can't help but feel like it is. You got caught! Red handed! 

Yes, they thought it was the cupcake, so maybe you weren't totally fucked. But also, you're totally fucked who are you kidding?!

You didn't exactly think you'd interact with them before, but it's awful your only interaction was weird and unseemly on your end. Groaning quietly, you remove one hand from your face to fan yourself, damn you feel stupid. 

You fan open part of your outfit, hoping in vain to let more air in to cool yourself down. Freaking out like this isn't a good look. After a couple minutes, you start to feel a little better. The flush of your cheeks is fading, and you miraculously avoided breaking into an anxious sweat. 

Sighing, you puff out your lips, you just sent texts to your closest friend about how massively you fumbled the bag. They laughed at you, while you scream-spammed the chat in horror. They did end up reassuring you that you were overreacting, that it was not in fact the end of the world. You thanked them before turning off your phone. You get up, dust yourself off a little before wandering back to the food table; finding yourself in front of the disposable drink cups, grabbing one. Gazing to the left, you find the water. You watch the water slowly drizzle into your cup, before downing the glass in a couple large gulps. Still thirsty, you fill it up again before returning to your seat.

Man, what a day, go to a beautiful wedding, see your friend get married, then fumble the biggest bag ever. You mentally kick yourself, even though on the outside, you look completely normal, sipping on your cup naturally.

Bouncing your foot a bit, you lean forward to scroll on your phone, hoping to find something interesting to pass the time and distract you. You're scrolling for about 5 minutes before someone sits next to you. Out of politeness you don't look, thinking it's another guest needing a seat. 

"Soo, about that cupcake. I ate it, definitely. But I felt a little bad. Here." The person next to you says, snapping you out of your doom scrolling. 

Why. Why why why. Is all you can think. They're fucking with you, haunting you. All over a cupcake. You look over and see they've got a small plate with another damn cupcake on it.

"Oh im- I'm not hungry anymore, thanks though." You try to nicely deflect, hoping they'll catch the hint and let you die in shame, alone. 

"Hmm, okay!" They say, they turn to face forward, unwrapping it for themself. They take a bite and bounce one of their legs, and you wonder why they're torturing you. They hum to themself as they continue to eat.

God. Please just go away...

They put their plate down and dust their hands, somehow already finishing the sickeningly sweet treat. "So." They state, placing both hands on either side of their seat, leaning forward, looking towards you. "Whatcha doing over here all by yourself?" They ask curiously.

"Well uh-" You clear your throat, "My friend’s the groom, it's his wedding. But I don't really know anyone else but him." You shrug, trying to relax and ease into conversation with them.

"Yeah, know how that feels." They say, sympathetically. "Wellll." They draw out the word, as if to emphasize it. "I was thinkin’ you could come to our table! I hate seeing anyone left out." Their smile is reassuring, until they start smirking. "Even. If. They stare at other people's food." 

Ok, you can't help it. You groan at their jab, while dragging a hand down your face. "Man, you will not drop that, huh?" You say, only a little less embarrassed this time. 

"Nope!" They tease, clearly getting a kick outta this. 

"You know what, I barely know you and you're already the worst." You joke, and your brain nearly breaks in two when they giggle at it. Their shoulders shake and they grin, still looking at you. You can't help but smile, even while trying really hard not to. They were stunning, cute and worst of all, infuriating. 

"Sorry for staring earlier...I was trying to see... your cufflinks." You say, clearly lying. As if desperately attempting to get out of the cupcake joke jail.

"Hmmm." They hum, unbelieving, eyebrows raised and nodding. "Well, too bad I don't have those." They smile, raising a hand up to show off their sleeve. 

You instantly cringe, caught once again. "Oh right." You mumble out, pursing your lips. Damn, you're fighting for your fucking life over here.

Your reaction makes them laugh. An honest to god laugh, and it's loud. They're finding WAY too much amusement in proving you wrong and you don't know why. Despite the embarrassment, you were now enjoying yourself. Talking to them, joking around, even if it's at your expense. Their laugh is almost contagious, and they've got the prettiest smile you've ever seen. 

"So.. what's your name?" You ask, your left hand fiddling anxiously at your side. Their laugh simmers down, and they sigh like they just heard the funniest joke in the world.

They hold their hand out towards you, "Sloane, yours?" You grab their hand and shake it, their grip firm. Your brain almost short circuits, realizing how much larger their hand is to yours. You say your name, and they repeat it. 

 

"It's nice to meet you!" They say, shaking your hand once more before letting it go.

"Sloane is a really pretty name." You state, trying to make conversation. Totally, 100% not flirting with them, of course.

"Awe shucks, you think so? Well I like yours too." They shoot back, their cheerful glow never dropping. They look over, and you do the same. You see them eyeing the table they came from. It appears someone stole their seat. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." You immediately apologize, feeling bad that their place was taken while talking to you. They shake their head and huff a little laugh, their curly hair bouncing. 

"Why're you sorry? Don't be. Plus, it's no biggie." They say nonchalantly, genuinely unphased. They crack a smile and lean forward, as if they're sharing a secret. "Don't worry, I'll get back at them." They whisper, a mischievous gleam in their eyes.

You giggle, and pull back a little. "What're you gonna do huh?"

They pull an inquisitive face, staring up at the ceiling almost performatively. "I dunno! Maybe I'll put confetti in all of their tents!" They announce, toying with the idea. You couldn't tell if they're serious or not. 

"You probably shouldn't do that." You jokingly warn, thinking abt how much of a pain confetti would be to get out of a tent. Much less the sleeping bags. 

Sloane grins, shining that gorgeous smile again. They seem to be the happiest person in the world. "Well, that's what they get for kicking me out of my own seat!"

You shake your head and let out a small chuckle, "You really are something."

They push you by the shoulder a bit, "I'm a great something I'll have you know." They joke, before settling back in their seat. 

Silence settles over the two of you for a bit, and it nearly becomes unbearable. That is until music begins to play. The lights towards the middle of the room light up, and the rest are dimmed to create a spotlight effect. The happy couple's chosen song is playing, and you watch as they approach the center of the room, beginning to dance. You smile, and awe at the sight. Seeing your friend so happy and glowing was truly a treat.

Sloane also watches, they love parties and weddings. Seeing two people so in love is one of life's many treasures. They look over towards you and see you recording your friends dance, they allow a small smile creep onto their face. They admire your side profile and the way your hair compliments you perfectly. You are eye-catching, and the way you practically folded over a cupcake earlier was hilarious. They love funny things, so they've GOT to get to know you. Exploring is one of their favorite things after all. 

They settle back and turn their attention to the dance. Eventually the music begins to wind down, and one of the grooms leaves the dance floor. It's the parents' dance, they think. Now that it isn't your friend out there, you click off the record button and look over to Sloane.

"So, what brings you here?" You ask, making conversation with them. They turn their head to face you, their hands loosely clasped together on their lap. 

"I'm from the wayfinders society! The other groom, Rey, is my good friend." They chirp, pointing at your friends now husband. "Y’know, me and him got lost once in a cave! Scary stuff, didn't know if we'd make it out." They said dramatically, waggling their fingers in your direction. 

"You serious??" You furrow your brow, and lean forward incredulously. Their warm dark eyes look back to their friend, and they nod. "Yeah, it was a couple years ago. We lost sight of our team, and couldn't find our way out. I ended up drilling us a new exit. Real risky doing that but we didn't have a choice." Sloane recounts, "Could've been worse!" They add, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"That's crazy, I could never do anything like that." You tap your foot against the ground, even thinking about that type of stuff gets you wound up.

They turn back to you with a hum and smile, "Well, you never know until you try! Exploring is the best thing I've ever done for myself, I love it. Seeing what the world was like before us… finding the rocks and gems the earth has made. It's real worth it." Their passion is evident, every word they speak has them glowing. You admit it's rather charming, seeing them so in love with their work. 

"Man, that's so cool." You state warmly. "You got a really cool job, Sloane. You got the job little kids dream of." 

They smile genuinely, really happy with the thought. "Well my abuela always said to follow your dreams, so I did. What about you? What's your dream?" They gently nudge your shoe with theirs.

"Hmmm, well. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out." You hum, looking at the ground. Your interests aren't nearly as exciting as theirs. Working one dead end job to the next, just trying to make ends meet. "Thinking tattooing, honestly." You add, looking up at them.

Sloane gasps, eyes widening. "That's so awesome though! I love tattoos, I've got at least four or five." They pull down the collar of their button down to reveal more of the flames tattooed across their neck. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't already noticed it. Wanting to see how far down it goes.

Quickly, you bat those thoughts away. Sticking to complimenting the line work and blocking of their tattoo. You ask what others they've got, and they explain all the patchwork they've got done on their arms. Some historical, some cool, some just to have a piece of the places they've been. They even mention a larger one on their thigh, a dinosaur skull with flowers. You try not to sound too interested in seeing them while asking if they have pictures. 

The conversation between you and Sloane runs smoothly, chattering about your lives and cracking jokes at one another's expense. The dancing at the party is now in full swing, guests of all types littering the dance floor. It's now completely dark outside, save for the lighting inside the venue. The lamps hanging from the ceiling are dimly glowing, the lanterns now back to their full glow. You even spot fireflies outside the venue, blinking on and off, flying into the wedding space and out. The place is truly beautiful.

The strumming of a bass fills the venue, an electronic guitar complimenting it perfectly. You recognize it instantly, as it's a song you've come to enjoy. Your new friend, Sloane, practically jumps out of their skin in excitement. They quickly whip their head to look at you while whisper shouting, "I love this song!!"

They bolt up, staring at the dance floor as both their feet hit the ground with a soft thud. They twirl their whole body around, looking at you with an outstretched hand, "Come dance with me??" They frantically blurt out.

You look dumbly at Sloane before slinking back into your chair a bit, cringing. "No no- I don't dance." While waving a hand in their direction dismissively. You're hesitant and it's obvious. The idea of getting in the middle of a bunch of people and dancing. God, not what you were made for.

You were telling the truth, you don't dance! Anyone seeing you attempt to dance may need an ambulance. Sloane slumps by your reaction, and pokes conversationally, "Aww c’monnn, pretty please? With cherries on top? One song?" They say, leaning backwards a bit on the heels of their feet while keeping their upper body forward. They begin pouting a lip out and sporting their best puppy dog eyes, hoping it'll help sway their case. 

Nervously, you rub your pointer finger across your thumb. This is not what I signed up for, you think as your lips form a line, eyes locking with Sloanes, trying to will yourself into saying no.

Damn.

You can't. You can't say no! You know you'd kick yourself later if you left without dancing with them. They're everything you like in someone, striking, funny, passionate... You internally groan, searching their dark eyes for a way out. Sadly, there isn't one. Their eyes only plead and beg.

And well... who are you to deny them?

Breathing in a deep, deep sigh, you fold, "Okayy. Okay." You say, holding both hands up, signaling defeat.

Sloane is about to shout out a glorious, loud YES before you cut them off with a finger up. "But first, a shot of liquid courage." You say, pushing yourself up from your chair, walking towards the end of the food table. There lay countless plastic shot glasses full of vodka. You pluck one from the rim of the platter.

Sloane watches as you down the drink, admiring the way your throat moves to swallow. They snort when they see you pulling a face.

"C'mon- c'mon- the song is already going." They bounce, having to fight the urge to just drag you onto the dance floor themself. Shaking your head, you wipe away the grimace on your face and discard the tiny shot glass into the nearby garbage.

They grab your hand and pull you into the crowd, though they seem somewhat aware of your aversion to it. So they lead you towards a less populated end of the floor, despite this, nearly everyone at the wedding was dancing. So you were still around a decent amount of people. They smile wide, looking off into the gaggle of party goers. You find it ironic this is the song you're dancing to, the lyrics playing loudly.

We've got nowhere to go

We've got nothing to prove

Instead of dancing alone

I should be dancing with you

The lyrics are slightly erotic, even, but you don't have much time to ponder it when they turn back to face you. They release your hand, before snapping their fingers in tune with the beat and swaying their hips. You giggle, your cheeks and stomach buzzing from the alcohol. Unfortunately for Sloane, you do not know how to dance. Not well at least, they laugh, watching you sway awkwardly. "You don't dance do you?" They ask, almost having to shout to be heard over the clamor of people and music.

"No, not really!" You reply, before admitting, "I don't wanna look dumb!" 

"Look dumb?! I'll show you dumb." They jest, backing up a bit to give themself some space. With their eyes locked onto yours, they bend their knees while bringing their right hand towards their head, palm open. They're walking towards you sideways, left hand swiping back and forth to their side and front. You about shit yourself, recoiling in shock and laughing. They continue though, bringing both hands up in fists towards their head, pumping them as they shake their hips, still approaching you. 

"What are you doing!!" You shout, cracking up at their absurdity. They finally pivot fully towards you, bending forward and moving their hands in circles. They finish off their charade with a performative strut your way, palms open in a dramatic walk. 

They laugh, grabbing one of your hands and pulling you further into the floor. "I'm dancing!! You should try it sometime!" They jive, sticking their tongue out. "I'm just saying, no one can look sillier than me!" You roll your eyes and shake your head. The smile never leaving your face.

They grab your other hand and start dancing for you, swaying you side to side. You can't help but giggle, letting them have their fun. You sway your hips and release their hands, moving yours back, snapping your fingers while doing circles and stepping side to side. Their grin widens and they yell, "Hell yeah! get it!!" Encouraging you. 

Smiling big, you continue attempting to dance with them. Sloane closes their eyes and lets themself feel the music, they move their feet expertly, and their arm movements intentionally. Seeing this makes you realize they definitely know how to dance. Your eyes explore them, their body and the way they move. It feels dirty watching them like this��But they invited you to dance, you think maybe they want you to watch them. Enjoy them, drink them up. 

It feels as though they've already wrapped you around their finger. You feel sadness bubble that the song is already ending. Luckily the next song that plays doesn't disappoint, more bass-y than the last. This one still just as popular as the day it released. 

You let yourself loosen, swaying your full body in rhythm with the bass as the song goes on. Sloane is looking at you again, and you daringly strut around them, stepping in beat with the drums. Alcohol does wonders for self esteem. They wait for you to come back around before stepping close, pulling you in by the hand. You raise an eyebrow, checking them with a grin, before gleefully walking back, shuffling your feet in tune with the music then pulling them towards you. They follow excitedly, their foot work impressive as they step towards you. They raise your held hand up as they approach and you twirl around to face them once more. Confidence runs through you at this point, letting go of the hand above you. You bring your free hand up quickly, placing it on their chest before grabbing their opposite hand. They're grinning so hard, pulling back, until your arms are taunt. Then jerking you towards them, you turn so your back hits their chest. Sloane has one hand around your front, hugging you just beneath your chest. The other holding your hip, their head resting next to yours. You both just sway now, enjoying each other's company and the music. "This okay?" They ask in your ear, the tone in their voice dropping low.

"Huh?" You say loudly, turning to face them. 

"I asked if this is okay!" They announced a little louder, and closer to your ear.

"Yeah!" You affirm happily, like this is the best day of your life. 

Do I wanna know?

If these feelings flow both ways.

Sad to see you go.

Sorta hoping that you'd stay.

Baby we both know.

That the nights were mainly made for sayin' things.

That you can't say tomorrow day.

Dancing with them like this, swaying side to side feels almost romantic. And you're having a really hard time ignoring that fact. That coupled with your already burning attraction has you dizzy. You could stay here forever. Another song passes by, and you both continue dancing with one another. At one point, you fumble through a waltz before they twirl and dip you. Despite having the time of your life, exhaustion was quickly catching up. Feeling a bit hot, and tired, holding both their hands, you turn around.

Looking up at Sloane, you truly get to admire their beauty. They've got beautiful curls, swooping and gentle. Their hair is natural, soft looking, and when you danced you could even smell their shampoo. Their eyes are a deep brown, rich like the dirt they so love digging through. You finally notice their eyebrow piercing as well, and you bite your lip. It suits them. You think. 

The longer you analyze their features, you wonder how the hell they're even real. How someone could look as perfect as them, be as charming as them. It nearly drives you mad. They smile a little, their eyes darting away. Their flushed cheeks grow a little redder at your prolonged staring. You smile a little, this is the first time you've seen them at least a little bashful. It's adorable.

The music is playing quietly now, seeing as most of the guests vacated the dance floor. Only a few stragglers are left, you included. So now you can properly talk to them.

"You know earlier... I wasn't exactly looking at the cupcakes…” You purse your lips, and squint your eyes, as if to will yourself to get the words out.

“I was staring at you." You chew your lip, looking away shyly. This confession could make or break this… whatever this is. You certainly don't wanna break it. While nervous, you had a feeling they would respond positively.

Their eyes snap back towards you, and they let themself smile, raising an eyebrow. "Ohhh, I'm that pretty, huh?" They tease.

You sigh and roll your eyes, they really are such a bastard. "Yeah yeah, whatever." You mutter, playfully pushing their shoulder. Not risking stroking their ego any further.

"No no, tell me, was it the bowtie?" They snicker, pushing their chest out a bit to really show it off. 

You shake your head, running your hands up from their own and readjusting their accessory. “Yes, it was the bowtie, all I wanted was you, bowtie.” You whisper at their chest, pulling the sides of the bow.

“Psh,” They chuckle, “Okay for real! What was it, huh?” They say, flashing their signature grin while raising their eyebrows suggestively. Perhaps telling them was a bad idea, you purse your lips again, realizing they'll bother you forever until you tell them. It seems like they're DYING to know.

You hum, dropping your head onto their chest. With one hand still on their chest, you let your other trail down their arm before grasping theirs, bringing it up towards you. Flipping it palm up, you let your free hand lightly touch their palm. "Your hands, I like them. I was looking at them." Dragging your fingers along their palm, you feel every callous and rough patch of skin. You turn them over to admire their nail polish and knuckles. You even start to massage in-between their fingers, just soaking up the fact that you can touch them like this, and they're allowing you to.

They seem to be at a loss for words, and you figure that doesn't happen too often. Smiling, you walk your fingers up their arm and to their shoulder to rest it there, bringing your other arm up to mirror it. Their hands come up to your waist and bring you close. While enjoying the embrace, you weren't expecting them to shake you and hug you in tightly. They groan into your shoulder, as if frustrated. You puff out a laugh at their weirdness. 

"Sorry- you're just so cute." They say, pulling back. "I just met you and you already got me in stitches." They admit, kicking the dirt by your feet. You figure instant attraction to a stranger is just as new to you as it is to them.

"Well..." You start, not even sure what to say. "We can… go back to my room? I'm staying at a hotel nearby. We can hang out, talk...see where it takes us?" Your voice raises at the end of your sentence, as if a little worried they'll say no. That's another lie, you were a LOT worried they'll say no, denying you any more of their time.

Your anxiety is evident as your eyes search their face for a clue, a glimmer of what they might say. Of what they could be thinking. 

Sloane looks at you with tenderness. Such sweetness you could melt. They bring a hand up to cup the side of your face, rubbing their thumb across it. "I'd like that." They say, their voice seems to tighten as if they're both excited and nervous about the proposition.

Yeah, usually parties suck. But this one? This one was amazing.

[varpusvaras]

Fox is dead.

He knows he is. His life hadn't been over instantly when his body had been suddenly and violently grabbed and twisted beyond what he could take. He had lied there, after, for a moment longer, knowing nothing but pain and the sinking feeling that he was dying.

He is here, now, not where his body had been left to die, but somewhere else. Somewhere he does not recognise, but knows, still, almost instinctually.

It looks like a grand hall with golden rivers and silver skies, so large that he cannot see how far the walls actually go. He tries to see, but everything is simply too far away.

There are others around him. Fox can see them and hear them moving around, walking past him, stepping around him like they don't see him but still know he is there.

Fox tries to look at some of them. He can see faces, so, so many of them, and if he focuses long enough on one of them, he can see it more clearly for a second, but no more. It is like they are far away from him as well, too far away for him to actually see them.

He watches as they go. They all follow the rivers, each a different one, disappearing somewhere alongside them after a while. Fox knows, somehow, that he is supposed to also follow one of the rivers to somewhere, wherever it may lead him to.

He hears one of them, faintly, if he listens very carefully. It's like the river wants him to follow, but cannot make him do so. Fox also wants to follow, but cannot make himself do so.

He knows the reason as well. He knows that he has done mistakes. Many of them. So, so many of them. He knows some of those mistakes have been too grave for his brothers to forgive.

Fox knows he is not welcome anymore.

The river sighs, and then flows away from him.

Fox stands there, and watches as faces he cannot see walk past him and disappear.

---

He waits.

It is the only thing he can do, after all. Wait.

It's a strange thing, waiting there. Every time he looks somewhere and watches someone, and then looks away for what feels even barely a second, there is already someone else there in their place. He needs to not forget himself, if he wants to not get lost there. He figures that out pretty quickly.

It's cold, there. The rivers look warm and the skies look clear, but Fox cannot feel them. He cannot feel anyone walking past him. They are there, just like he is, but at the same time, it is like they are existing on parallel realities, and only getting a glimpse of what is going on behind the glass that separates them.

Perhaps it's just Fox who sees them. Perhaps no one else sees him.

He tries not to think about that too much.

---

There are a lot of brothers walking around him.

Fox can see their faces clearly. They do notice him too. Many walk towards him, if they see him, and some of them speak to him, if they get close enough.

Fox wonders if they notice him because the Force recognises them as the same, or at least close enough. If the Force recognises them as kin, even when Fox has been casted aside.

His brothers want him to come with them. They can still hear the river, calling them, guiding them forward to somewhere they are meant to go. His brothers try to take his hands and take him with them. Fox had not expected that, if he is being completely honest. He would understand it, if the others were thinking that he was just any brother.

But no. Some of them do recognise him, and still reach for him, even if they are not wearing the Guard red.

"Of course you can come with", one brother in 212th gold tells him. "The Commander always spoke very fondly of you. You are our brother. Of course you can come with us."

He reaches for Fox, and he makes contact, and even when his hand is warm, Fox's legs are stuck on the ground.

The brother looks at Fox with sad eyes.

"I'm sorry", he says. "You are our brother."

"I know", Fox tells him. "I know. Can you say hi to everyone for me?"

"Of course", his brother tells him, and then follows the river away from Fox.

---

The Guards, once they figure out that Fox cannot follow them, want to stay with him.

"You are our Commander", they all tell him. "We're not going to leave you here alone!"

They stay, all of them, as long as they are able to. They hold onto him, like Fox is their anchor, the only thing keeping them from drifting away with the river.

Fox lets them stay with him, for a while, but eventually he tells all of them to go.

"Don't worry", he tells them. "Others will come along. I'll be fine. Say hello to everyone for me, alright? Go now. I'll be fine."

There is always resisting, but eventually, they do leave. They have to. The river is guiding them forward, and they have to follow it. Fox cannot hear the river, and his brothers cannot guide him themselves to it.

Fox stands there, and watches them leave.

---

Stone is the first one to arrive after Fox.

It's strange, to look at him. He looks both like the Stone Fox remembers, and like Stone Fox doesn't quite recognise, Stone who is slightly older and has a new scar across his face.

It's still Stone, though.

Stone stays with him for a long, long time.

But eventually, he leaves as well.

"I'll be fine", Fox says, for the hundreth time. "Say hi to Thorn for me."

"I will", Stone promises. "I will."

---

After Stone comes Hound. He stays for a long time as well, and promises to say hello to Thorn and Stone.

After Hound comes Bly.

Bly puts his arms around Fox and holds him.

"It's not fair", he says, again and again. "It's not fair, this isn't how any of this is supposed to go! It doesn't matter if someone has called you a Dar'vod, you are my brother! That should matter more!"

"I know", Fox says.

"Why are you so calm about this?" Bly asks him. "You are stuck here! You should be with all of us!"

"Bly, please", Fox says. "I can't. Please don't...please don't remind me too much. Please don't."

Bly goes quiet. He still holds onto Fox for a long time.

Eventually, he has to let go.

"It's okay", Fox promises him. "Say hi to Ponds for me."

---

Thire comes last.

Fox knows more time has passed now. It's strange, to look at Thire, and see his youngest brother there, but also someone who is a lot older than Fox ever got to be now.

He looks a lot like Prime before he died, Fox thinks, but doesn't say it out loud.

He also thinks it's a good thing Thire looks so much older than Fox. Fox knows he wouldn't have been able to endure his little brother dying young like Fox had.

"We have a chance", Thire tells him. "There are a lot of people standing against the Empire. Bail and Breha are with them."

Fox almost starts crying then and there. It's been- he doesn't even know how long it has been since someone has said those names to him.

"They're," Fox swallows, and tries again, "they're alright?"

"Yes", Thire says. "They are. I let them take your body, you know? You're there with them."

It's strange, to think about what happened to him after his death. Fox has been here the whole time, not there.

He guesses whatever was left of him there was what was left of him to everyone else, as well.

Fox thinks about it for a while, and then turns back to Thire.

"What else has been going on?" He asks, because he already knows that Thire is going to be staying for a while.

So Thire stays, and he tells his stories, until he has nothing else to say.

He promises, like all of Fox's brothers before him, to say hi to everyone for him. He hugs Fox for a long while, before he finally lets go.

Fox watches him leave for as long as he can.

---

The Galaxy is big, and there is always someone dying.

Fox has accepted that to be just the inevitable way of life. Everyone and everything dies eventually, even the stars. He thinks he had heard that from someone while he was still alive.

Still, some deaths are more tragic than others. Some deaths are ones that Fox thinks shouldn't have happened, not at least in the way that they did, no matter the inevitable nature of death itself.

He has seen it all pretty much, by now. Many people have been crying when walking past him, but as far as Fox has seen, they have all always dried their tears before they disappear with their rivers. He has seen anger and despair, both in a way that suits normal lives and in a way that he recognises to suit lives that are ended by the brutality of war. They all seem to always get past it, though, before they continue their journey past where he cannot see them anymore.

Fox has learned that it is normal for there to be a lot of people around him, and for them to be in distress.

But still, he knows something is wrong.

Maybe it's the way the people just seem to appear, all of a sudden, all at once, instead of coming in many rivulets. Maybe it's in the way that people are now moving. Many are still walking towards, around and past him, like they usually do, but many, too many, way too many, are running around, shouting and screaming names, searching for faces with desperation and grief written all over their own, whenever Fox gets to look at them for long enough.

It feels less like a river now, flowing towards their ends, but like a wild rapids, like rogue waves being pushed around against shores that are too small and tight for them.

Fox looks at them more closely.

He has seen it all, by now. Adults, elderly, teenagers, even children. People die at all ages all the time.

But this? There are so many of them, searching for each other. All of them are crying. He sees so many small children, healthy looking, yelling for their parents, for their siblings, friends, anyone, and just as many adults doing the same, searching for their children and parents and anyone they know, and they just keep coming.

Fox tries to look at them, tries to listen at them for long enough to figure out what is going on, but it's even more difficult now, when there are so many faces and voices around him. Something terrible, he can tell, because there seems to be no end for them, and whenever he gets to hear more than one word from any of them, they all sound the same, like they all speak the same language in the same way.

Fox doesn't understand how that can be. How can this many people die like this, all seemingly at once, in one place? He has seen war before, but even the largest massacres had been nothing like this.

He listens to them more, and there is now something familiar in the way they all talk, in a way that suddenly makes Fox go cold, like he was dying himself all over again.

He knows it. He knows the way they are all speaking, he has listened to that very same way of speech so many times.

Suddenly Fox understands everyone around him searching and screaming very well, because he is doing the same now.

Not screaming yet, but definitely searching. He tries to look at all the faces, to see if he sees them, and he prays to something, anything, everything, that he doesn't find what he is looking for.

He doesn't need to look into the faces of people around him to see them, eventually, because in the sea of faces and voices on the other side of a misty window, he sees two more than clearly.

Fox understands the grief in everyone's faces now too.

He is definitely screaming, now.

No words at first, no. Just a sound that makes its way out of him without him being able to control it at all. He sees them hear it, because they stop, and they start to look around, their eyes searching the people around them.

Fox hasn't had to breathe in a long, long time, but now he feels like he is out of air anyway. He drags his voice back in, and pushes it back in where it can be formed into words, and he screams again.

"Breha!" His voice is tearing up at its invisible seams. "Bail!"

He looks at them, and that's the moment they look at him and see him, standing there, in the same place where he has been standing his whole time there.

Fox watches as they start running as well, still looking at him, and then they are there, and Bail is just a little bit closer and throws his arms around him.

Fox stumbles, his legs ripping away from the ground. He doesn't get to wonder about it for too long, because Bail is holding him now. He is warm, just the way Fox achingly clearly remembers him to be, and then Breha is there as well, her arms going between Bail's to hold onto Fox just as tight.

They all stand there, for a moment which length Fox cannot measure, in each others arms.

Breha is the first one to speak.

"Fox", she says, in a way she always used to say his name, and Fox is barely able to keep the tears that have sprung into his eyes from falling.

Her hand reaches up and touches his jaw and then his cheek.

"Fox", Bail says then, as well, and Fox cannot hold it in anymore.

He cries.

He is pretty sure they are all crying.

There is another hand on his face, now, both of them wiping away the tears still falling down.

"Fox", Breha calls him again. "Fox, my love, our love. Look at me."

What else can Fox do, than to do as she asks of him?

It is Breha and Bail, standing there, just like he remembers them, but not quite. When Fox blinks, there are definitely grey streaks in Bail's beard and hair, and there is a long, silvery strand framing Breha's face. More lines around their eyes when Fox looks closer, ones he doesn't remember seeing there before.

It doesn't matter to him, not really. He knows them, still.

It's a strange mix of emotions he is feeling. Relief, of finally seeing them again. Happiness, brought by being held by them again.

Sorrow, for seeing them both there, emerging from the chaos of grief, knowing that they are here with him now, because they are both dead.

"Why?" He asks, because he doesn't know what else to ask. It's one word, but they understand it still.

The same grief is on their faces as well.

"The Empire", Bail starts, and pauses for a moment, like speaking pains him, "has figured out how to build weapons of mass destruction beyond anything we could've imagined. We've been fighting against them for a long time now, and...we finally got caught. Alderaan is no more."

"I don't understand", Fox says. "That doesn't make any sense."

Except it does, in a sense that it explains why there were so many of them all of a sudden, all frightened, like they hadn't had any time to prepare for their deaths. But it doesn't, because Fox cannot, will not believe that there is a weapon that can make a whole planet and everyone on it disappear.

"I know", Breha says, soothing, like she isn't the one who has just lost her own life and everything else. "It's not all lost. Our daughter, she's out there. She has the key to stopping them."

"She will do it", Bail says, and he sounds proud, so proud. "She will. We know she will."

Fox believes them when they say it.

"Of course she will", he says. "She is your daughter, after all. If she is anything like you, she can do anything."

They look at him gently, then.

"Our daughter", Breha repeats. "Our daughter. Just because you weren't there doesn't mean she is any less yours. She carries you with her as much as we did."

"She takes after you very much as well", Bail says, and there is a sparkle in his eyes again as he speaks. "Determined and strong, just like you."

Fox cries again. They don't rush him to stop, just stay there with him and hold him until everything has been spent.

"I wish I would've known her", Fox says. "I wish I would've been there."

"We wish so too", Bail says. "There wasn't a day we didn't wish that you were with us still."

"But you are now", Breha says, brushing her fingers softly over the skin under Fox's eye. "You are with us again. We have all the time now to tell you everything."

That is the moment Fox remembers that he can move again.

He has to make sure. He lifts one leg, and takes half a step back, and then makes the other leg follow.

He can move, but he still cannot hear the river.

"I would love that", he says. "But I...I don't know where to go."

"Don't worry", Bail says. He reaches for Fox's hand, and takes it into his, firmly and securely. "We know. We'll show you."

Breha laces her fingers with Fox's as well, tying herself to him like a safety line on the outside of a ship. They turn to face the golden rivers, meandering towards their ends under the silver skies, and they take Fox with them.

[heiayen]

a hug for your worries!🌻 gn!reader x suna rintarou summary🌻your grumbling stomach and toasts you were preparing have to all wait, because you boyfriend came back home in a terrible, sour and horrible mood. but it appears there is a way to fix it... tags🌻prompt used "give me a hug" /drabble. fluff, established relationship, silly banter between reader and suna <3 petnames (reader to suna), also my very first time writing for hq and suna in general so forgive any ooc!! notes 🌻 wow. haikyuu debut. unexpected! also take this as my official writing comeback because i have a few fics more planned! this is technically first part of a short multifandom fluff prompts series! was supposed to be flufftober but i got too impatient and decided to just post fics as i write them! so. expect more. if you're my mutual (it's directed) you are morally obligated to look away 🫵 because i am embarrassed. everyone else enjoy <3

Suna Rintarou had a bad day, and you knew that from the very moment he came back home. 

It was in the way he closed the doors, nearly slamming them which was instantly followed by mumbled cursing (because he really didn't mean to, he was tired and his hand slipped!). In the way you could barely hear his grumbled 'I'm home', or in the way he took off his shoes, put them away, and sighed loudly.

During his little drama show, you just raised your eyebrows in amusement, continuing to prepare food. You figured Rintarou would also want to eat, especially when in such a mood, so you grabbed another piece of bread for an extra toast. Good thing you shared the same taste for what to eat your toasts with...

And soon, you heard footsteps behind. 

"Hi, Rin– ugh, get off of me!" you huffed, barely able to finish the sentence, before you felt his arms wrap around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder. In no way you could continue making food with this guy all over you. 

"No."

"Yes!" You slapped his hand with the back of the butter knife handle, but to no avail, for he only dug his chin harder into your shoulder. 

(Which earned him another slap and an annoyed groan from you when it still didn't work.)

"Is this how you treat your boyfriend?" You could hear the pout in his voice, despite not seeing his face. You rolled your eyes.

"Drama queen," you mumbled, pressing a kiss into his hair. "Hi, love. Hard day?"

He hummed in agreement, and you only hummed back, continuing with the food.

"Did someone piss you off during practice?" you asked softly, and Rin shook his head.

"Don' wanna talk about it."

And then, there was a moment of silence and you almost missed his next words, mumbled into your neck.

"...give me a hug?"

You almost rolled your eyes at him (again), ready to remark how you're not only busy, but he's already hugging you, but instead, you turned around in his embrace and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, returning the hug, and you felt him relax.

You were curious as to what was the cause of his sour mood, because it was somewhat of a rare view of Rintarou, but you didn't push. If he wanted to, he would talk to you, and you would gladly listen to him.

Some seconds more passed before you remembered the poor, abandoned toasts. 

"...how about you go change? And let me finish making food?" you asked, patting him on the shoulder.

"Are you kicking me out," he deadpanned, and you had to fight the urge to laugh at him. How horrible of a person you were for even asking him to leave the kitchen.

"Well, yes." You shrugged, but made no move to actually push him away. "Food won't make itself and I bet you're hungry, so get out." 

"No."

But maybe you should've pushed him, you started to think. It surely wouldn't hurt, pun not intended. 

"Yes, Rin, yes. Out of the kitchen."

"You're horrible," Rintarou sighed heavily, and you groaned, already seeing the direction this conversation was starting to go in. "I'm a suffering man and this is how you act?"

"You're repeating yourself, you asshole." This time you gave into the urge and hit him on his shoulder, earning a very fake sounding 'ouch' from him. "And if you can act all smart with me, then you're fine. Get out!"

That made him huff out a laugh which you took as a good sign, one of Rintarou getting back in a good mood, so you smiled yourself. He moved away from you, just enough to look at you, still keeping his arms wrapped around you, but not for much longer.

Rintarou cupped your cheeks and leaned closer to your face, your foreheads almost touching.

"Absolutely horrible, y'know?" he snickered (the humor in his voice obvious) and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. 

"You looove me anyway,"  you sing-sang, smiling widely. Something appeared in his fox-like eyes after your words, soft and warm, but very quickly, the charm broke.

"Yeah, I do," he said after a moment, quieter. And then added, because it wouldn't be him if he didn't—

"Unfortunately."

You gasped at his words in mock offense, much to his amusement, and pushed at his chest. "You're not getting even a burned toast, Rintarou."

That seemed to work, as he finally moved away from you, frowning at your poor excuse of a threat. He left the kitchen with a few more complaints about you, to which you only waved him a goodbye, have a nice shower, don't slip.

...oh, well, you really should go back to those toasts. 

[punkeropercyjackson]

Percy Jackson is canonically punk and should be potrayed as such:A meta of sorts by an irl punk

Percy within every single book,including sidestories,fills out every requirement for being punk

Nonconformity/most likely transgenderism:He's amab but gender neutral/feminine presenting and it's a running theme and core trait of his he's nothing like traditional men to the point it was a major plot in Titans's Curse of him proving himself to Zoe and is always potrayed as and proven to be correct

Direct action:A lifelong bully beater which escalated into fighting the goverment in the form of an actual pantheon

Anarchism:'Does not like to be restrained' and encourages the same of everyone else no matter what rules there are against it and finds the idea that going against society is bad to be nothing but privileged loser mentality

Anti-capitalism:Hates rich people due to growing up poor and therefore on classism and refuses to accept any kind of power specifically because it's corruptive and he knows it facefirst

Activism:Helps mythos beings that're seen as lesser live better lives such as him telling the gods to pay child support(bonus points for never wanting immortality at all and actively abhoring the idea)and with ordinary things too(willingly lending a hand whenever asked and even when not even if it's not a world saving deal)and participates in Rachel's charity events and protests with her in the mortal world

Sense of community:Looks out for other minorities specifically(including the enemy sided ones as seen with Chris and Ethan and instant forgiveness of Silena!!)but especially the younger ones because they need to the most,to the point he basically adopts them as younger siblings and pseudo-kids,including riding harder than anyone else for a lil darkskin black girl(Hazel)except her actual brother

And finally,listens to punk music:Alluded to frequently and confirmed to listen to The Ramones as he gifted Nico a shirt of them

Percy is also mentally disabled(audhd,dyslexia,ptsd and bpd),poor and was accidentally made afrolatino.The last one isn't simply a headcanon but a concrete canon only with no contradiction reading of texts-Percy is from El Barrio,insulted a group of classmates in Som by calling them 'rich white boys',has 'a mediterranean complexion' which is an umbrella term for brown skin and the shade is never specified and quite literally gets profiled in the mortal world all the time and he says it's always happened to him.It's important to note Sally was played by a black woman in the musical and that Percy is much more aware and therefore respectful of racial and gender dynamics than explicitly white characters,the gender part being relevant due to how gender and blackness' intersection is treated

And Percy's main villain and direct opposite is Luke,who is a VERY hardcore fascist and has illusions of being the martyr of the gods Percy actually is.Luke's life was pretty easy compared to Percy's,to most demigods in fact!,but he was a much worse person and this is absolutely a reflection of the victim complex openly violent bigots have.He's constantly telling Percy he dosen't understand how bad the gods are but the thing is,Percy instantly knew they were bad.He'd been dealing with gods,male authority figures,since he was a lil boy so he never liked them even in TLT because he sensed their bad intentions they hid behind masks he could never wear unlike them which they punished him for.As the story progressed,Percy fought against Luke's supremacy with zero hesitation as he couldn't not take him down in his heart and did other good things for everyone who deserved it along the way and even made detours to accomplish it sometimes and Luke didn't do any damage to the gods or fix the system or even nurture the Titan's Army members despite his supposed want to give them a better world and that's how propaganda works irl.Percy gets called 'stupid' for not articulating himself perfectly or elegantly most of the time but he's not at all,he's just audhd and bpd and he walks the walk every time and Luke is the reverse of him,his speeches and promises being grooming,gaslighting and propaganda.Quite literally,Luke grew up in a fantasy land(Camp Half-Blood)and Percy grew up in the real world(ours)

The 'should be potrayed as such' bit refers to how often Percy is ooc'd into a punk stereotype made by normies instead of legit punk rep.Percy is punk as a survival tactic,out of a wish for a better world for everybody and just natural traits he has due to his life experiences.He's not 'trying to look cool',he's an asshole because he's traumatized as fuck and never learned how to mask and is a cocky asf yet self-loathing combo in the same way many black men are,not like a white fuckboy who think he a bad bitch 'cause he's a misogynist 'ironically' and has a janky ahh mohawk.He's also uncaring of 'ruining his image' and has cutesy/kiddy interests in addition to punk ones openly and thinks positively of femininity as proven by his descriptions and interactions with the femme girls of the verse.He said Annabeth has 'princess hair' and it's a physical wince moment when you find out Annabeth is a butch who hates femininity for herself but is fixed by Leah Jeffries' role and makes perfect sense princess-y black girls is his canon type considering 'names have power' and 'Perseus and Andromeda'.Percy being black4black plays into him being afropunk,which is the perfect kind of punk for him considering the rest of this and how punk was started by black people for character accuracy and historical accuracy

In a representation way!Sorry Luke apologists and gods apologists as you self-proclaim but not all history is good history and many,if not most,greek people are rightfully disgusted by their ancestors' treatment of women,transgenderism and pedestary in the same way a lot of japanese people are against perpetuating their country's imperialist background as they correctly believe it's nothing but backwards thinking that hurt and still hurts people and should've never existed as a result and same goes for tons of cultures of color you use as scapegoats without listening to or even caring about the people of color who made them.Just like you do punk culture in fact!Luk.ercy and Goddsshipping automatically makes Percy and you a poser as you can't be punk and support fascism or corrupted systems and yeah,hooking up with people who're doers and in charge of them counts.You are what you eat,to use the best phrase that fits i can think of.'Shipping isn't activism' isn't said by anybody who does what is activism.Y'all don't know what it means is clearly the reason and you refuse to learn what and how to do it 'cause you're too busy writing Dead Dove Do Not Eat of a kids book series to 'fight cencorship' instead of fighting for rights and decolonization(did you even know that word exists?Yeah,didn't think so)

In conclusion:Perseo Isadore Jackson is canonically punk and in the hands of a way better author,would be explicitly afrosolarpunk,audhd,transfem bigender and reach the full potential he deserves,wants and has earned by revolutionizing the greco-roman mythos world and having a black pastel punk girlfriend he's childhood best friends to lovers with and is the same as him yet his opposite because book!Percabeth was a mistake and ooc on every level for every character even besides Percy and Annabeth themselves.Handing him a blue loaded burger and his estrogen i diy'd rn since he finished cleaning his piercings

[ficmashup]

Feral

A/N: I'm feeling silly, so why not post an almost 3k little fic of TF141? I have literally no thoughts other than 'hey, why not' so no clue if I'll continue this or not. Just fooling around! This is my first time posting anything like this by me, so don't come for me if I got the terms wrong. Also, I'm a first-person girly, so forgive me.

Warnings: I'm pretty vague, but for full disclosure, possible SA mention? (Nothing explicit or even mentioned, but more a general vibe, sorry that's not more specific) shooting, guns, very minor character deaths, f!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Read part two here.

Masterlist

I’m absolutely feral and determined to make sure everyone knows it.

Being in a male-dominated field hasn’t been easy and I’ve tried a lot of avenues before settling on this one. Something about being a female medic just really seems to set off everyone’s internal misogyny and nothing shuts them up faster than the little female medic literally punching their teeth in. I get into three fights my first month after being assigned to the 141.

The first fight I get into, I nearly bite a man’s finger off. (He was pointing it in my face and I warned him before going for it, so—deserved.) The second, I punch a man so hard while he’s talking that he bites off the tip of his tongue. (If he wanted to keep it intact, then he should have stopped wagging it.) During the third, I come away holding a chunk of a soldier’s hair. (He touched mine without permission and gave it a little tug. Enough said.)

After that, people seem to get the message. There are still a few smartasses that press their luck, but usually those situations are diffused without physical means. My relationship with my team however…that’s a bit more complicated.

I meet each of them when I arrive, the hulking soldiers lined up like pallbearers waiting for the coffin. I shook their hands, exchanged names, then didn’t say another word. None seemed to know exactly how to react to me and I wasn’t sure how to act around them. We’re supposed to trust each other with our lives, but I wouldn’t trust a single one to pour me a cup of tea. They struggle too, but for different reasons. They’re clearly close and know each other well, that’s why they’re such a deadly team, and I’m an outsider. A suspicious and cautious outsider, although I try to temper my attitude into passive indifference while I try to figure them out.

Naturally, Soap tries to break the ice first.

“You’ve got a thousand-yard stare that could rival Ghost’s, lass.” He comments one day in a charming Scottish accent as he risks sitting next to me in the mess hall. “You can bend my ear, if the fancy strikes ya.”

“I doubt that it will.” My voice is cool, indifferent, and I can’t keep myself from leaning away from him a bit. Too many times did I let myself trust another service member only for the friendship to quickly turn into something else. Something I did not want.

Soap quirks a brow and takes the cold shoulder in his stride. “But if it does. Don’t hesitate to find me.” He pats my shoulder before walking off and I feel the stirrings of something in my stomach as I watch him go. Loneliness, longing, the desire to be part of…something. I shake my head and throw away the rest of my food as I leave the mess hall, trying to ignore that little ember flickering in my gut.

*     *     *

Gaz tries next, but it’s a bit more subtle. Be it by luck or some other divine intervention, none of the team were ever present when I got into the fights. But they definitely heard about them afterward. There’s no judgement in their gazes, I’m sure they heard why I got into those fights, but there is curiosity. Gaz shifts a touch closer after a briefing about an upcoming mission and I clock the movement instantly, my eyes cutting to his. Gaz’s eyebrows pop up and the corner of his mouth lifts warmly. “Heard you were in a hell of a fight recently.” He starts, an elbow propped up on the arm of the chair he’s relaxed back into.

“Her last.” Price says with a pointed glance towards me and I nod, but we both know I didn’t start any of the fights. I simply ended them.

“The boys telling the tale were practically shaking in their boots.” Gaz presses on and I can’t help feeling a brief bit of pleasure at that. Price distracts himself with maps and papers on the other side of the table, but I’m not foolish enough to think that he isn’t listening. Soap perks up, turning to me as well while Ghost lurks near the door.

“Glad to hear the message got across.” I keep my voice low with little inflection. Usually I’m up and out the door after a meeting, but since everyone else is lingering, I figure I can give it a chance.

There’s a quiet hum from behind me that has my back straightening. “Trying to scare off the whole base?” Ghost asks and it’s the first time he’s asked me anything directly.

My head turns so that I can see his silhouette behind me. “Not all of us strike an imposing figure and wear a scary mask. Sometimes people have to see the blood on your teeth to know that you mean what you say.” I keep my voice soft to avoid the appearance of a threat, but let the words have an impact. Gaz and Soap glance at one another while Price’s hands stall over his papers across the table. A beat passes, then Ghost huffs what could almost be considered a laugh. The sound gives me a strange sense of relief as the tension over the room breaks.

“Can’t wait to see you sink your teeth into the enemy then, sergeant.” The corner of my mouth lifts and I nod, glad to have the opportunity to prove myself. I turn a bit more in my seat to see Ghost’s piercing eyes and don’t flinch away.

“I’ll save a blood-stained smile just for you, Lieutenant.” I promise and I think I hear Gaz swallow while Soap blinks. Ghost responds with a simple nod and I swear I see the fabric of his mask shift as he smirks before he slips out of the room.

*     *     *

The first real test comes when we’re sent out on our first mission together.

A month after I’m stationed with them, we’re sent out and it’s a bit jarring for all of us. They’ve been on their own for a while and introducing a new person into that dynamic…it’s enough to make everyone a bit off-center. But I’m used to sliding into places that I’m not wanted and I’m not about to be an idiot and risk everyone’s lives by being difficult, so I tuck myself into the small gaps left by the men. It’s not like they don’t want me here anyway, they’re just…apprehensive. Same as me.

We spend the first day trekking up a mountain through snow and I push myself hard, wanting to prove myself and leave no room for anyone to call me lazy or unfit. The entire day, I’m on Price’s heels as he leads us and I soak in his nod of approval despite myself as we file into an empty cabin for the night. I’m utterly exhausted, but I force myself to look through the house to memorize the layout before returning to the living room. Soap is eagerly setting up the hot plate for us to have a hot meal, even if it is an MRE, while the others are laying out their sleeping bags. They lay them in a row and I watch with trepidation as I put my bag down in a corner of the room, then sit alongside it as I rest for just a minute.

My eyes shut before I realize and I only become aware of it when I hear boots stop in front of me and they snap open. I look up instantly to see Price standing over me and I shove myself up onto my feet, teetering just slightly as I focus on his face. “Sir?”

“At ease.” He soothes and my shoulders lax just a touch at the command. “It’ll get below freezing tonight, so we’re huddling together. I’ve put you between Soap and I, but you can settle where you want.” Price chooses his words carefully with his clear eyes looking over my face for a reaction, but it’s clear that this isn’t optional.

“…yes, sir.” I respond, glancing over at the spot left bare for my sleeping bag. Anxiety gathers in my stomach and my hands clench at my sides. “Permission to take first watch?”

He considers me a moment, fingers smoothing over his facial hair. “Granted.” I glide away to the other side of the house and perch on a window sill as I look over the snowy landscape. Soap is kind enough to bring me my MRE and stalls next to me for a few moments.

“Feel free to snuggle close tonight. Or kick me if I start to snore.” He winks at me and my lips barely twitch at his effort to relieve the tension I know is clear throughout my body. After that, no one bothers me as night falls. The cold seeps into the house and I keep myself curled into a ball to conserve body heat even as I shiver. My anxiety about the impending sleeping arrangements keeps me awake and alert easily enough, but I can’t keep watch all night.

“Oi.” Ghost’s deep whisper disturbs the near silence and my head whips to my left, seeing him standing a few feet away. He moved quietly. Impressive for a man of his size. “I’m taking over. Get some sleep and get warm.” He flicks his chin back towards the others. I swallow and reluctantly leave my perch, brushing past him before I feel his gloved hand catch my bicep. My hand clenches into a fist automatically as I turn back to him to find his gaze locked on mine, his eyes dark and considering.

“I don’t know your story. Price has kept your file under wraps and we trust him enough to accept that. But whatever you’ve been through, don’t assume that you’re going to go through the same thing with us.” I’m pinned in place by his gaze and his words, my eyes widening slightly. I hadn’t known Price was keeping my file to himself, but the show of consideration and loyalty surprises me. It also hits me deep.

“I hear you.” I whisper back and he lets me pull my arm from his light grip. “But I’m not about to trust anyone blindly.”

He nods once. “Fine. But don’t rule it out either.” He quirks a brow at me pointedly before pulling away and settling in my place in the window, effectively ending the brief conversation. His words swirl around in my head while I head over to the others and gather my sleeping bag in my arms as I squeeze it. I kneel on the floor and roll it out between Price and Soap while my heart thunders in my chest. I’m still shivering as I do my best to be quiet while unzipping my sleeping bag, then slip down into it. My shoulders bump against Soap and Price before I shrink, curving my shoulders inward to try not to touch anyone despite that very much not being the point of sleeping like this.

Price shifts and turns towards me while I freeze, still shivering in place while I hold my breath until I see that his eyes are still closed. I release a small sigh of relief before choking on it as his eyes flash open. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as an apology perches on my tongue, but he says nothing. Instead, he shifts a bit closer without taking his eyes off mine, then lays an arm next to me before holding his other up a bit. An invitation.

I swallow and blink a few times as I take in the offer. Out of everyone, Price is the easiest for me to be around. He treats me like anyone else, he keeps his distance, and while he doesn’t hesitate to wield his authority, he wears it lightly. “Make a choice, soldier.” He murmurs with a voice gruff and deep from sleep. My jaw locks as a violent shiver wracks me before I force myself to shimmy closer to Price. I’m not about to freeze my ass off because of idiocy or stubbornness. He takes that as my answer and reaches out, hands wrapping around me and gathering me to him. The only noise I make is a small squeak as he pulls me against his hard body and I melt almost instantly into his warmth.

He cradles my face against the warm crook of his neck with his cheek resting against the top of my head. His other arm wraps around my waist and his hips shift slightly so his legs drape over mine while still in our respective sleeping bags. Like a heavy blanket. My heart is still beating fast as a hummingbird’s wings while my body fights my mind, but luckily, I’m so cold and tired that instinct wins out. My eyes shut and I feel my cheeks heat as his hand falls to the back of my neck, his gloved fingers gently kneading the skin. “Thanks.” I breathe and his grip tightens around me for a moment before he releases a long breath, draping me in the scent of his cigars. I don’t hear Price make another sound because I’ve fallen asleep before he takes another breath.

*     *     *

Price wakes early the next morning and I feel it the instant that he moves. I pull away without hesitation and his arms fall from around me while I avoid his gaze, my cheeks hot. I’m quick to roll up my sleeping bag and check over my pack while I cool down a bit. The morning passes and no one says a thing about our sleeping arrangements despite every soldier having to pass by Price and I while they took watch. Their eyes linger between us a bit, but I’ll take that over any smart comments.

We move out and the mission goes smoothly enough. Gaz and I perch on a cliffside while the others clear a town below. He’s my spotter while I keep a steady eye on the areas they’re heading into through my scope. Being a medic means I have steady hands, which makes me a hell of a sniper.

“So…did you know the Captain before being stationed here?” Gaz says quietly, the first words not mission related that he’s said to me today.

I scoff softly and keep my eye glued to my scope. “No. And if this is a way to get me to talk about the position Price and I were in this morning, it’s a poor segway. It was cold. We were all pressed together like sardines. That’s the end of it.”

“Right, right, sure.” He agrees and silence falls over us again. For a moment. “Ghost and I spoon all the time. Soap too. Like three little peas in a pod.”

I snort, unable to keep the corner of my mouth from lifting. “And leave Price out? Criminal.”

Gaz chuckles and the sound is warm, especially in this cold landscape. “Oh we invite him. He just doesn’t usually show much interest.”

“Hm. He is the captain. Maybe he has higher snuggle standards.”

“You saying the rest of us aren’t snuggle material?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Ouch, newbie. You strike for the heart.”

“I’m a sniper and a medic. It’s kind of my job.”

Gaz chuckles again and I realize that I’m actually…having fun? At least a little bit, anyway. “I’ll get a laugh out of you eventually, newbie.” My mouth opens to reply before I see a flash of movement in the town below.

Two figures pass by a second-floor window and I spot a hatch on the roof. I focus and take a breath as I aim at the hatch, waiting. I take a second to flick on my coms. “Two tangos on the northeast roof. Hold position.” The hatch begins to open while I remain steady, all my attention on that roof and my gun.

“Copy.” Price’s voice comes over the coms before there’s silence. The hatch opens and I wait for them both to get out, making sure it’s closed behind them before shooting. My breath funnels out of my chest and I make the shots without blinking, the action practically reflexive after so long in service. Both fall without getting to fire off a shot. I’m pretty sure I hear Gaz curse quietly beside me.

“Tangos down. You’re clear to move forward.” I report, heaving a relieved sigh as I see them move through the last stretch of town without incident.

“Copy, move out. Nicely done.” Price responds and I finally get to move out of my horizontal position. I stretch just a bit, wincing as my muscles pinch from being in the same position for so long, before I pack my gun and turn to Gaz who is shaking his head slightly.

“You took out those guys like a damn surgeon.”

The corner of my mouth lifts again as we head out. “Sniper and medic, remember? Let’s get out of here. Your comrades are missing their third pea in their pod.” I comment dryly and he grins, following me down the path where we agreed to meet the others.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You did. I’m flattered to be the first one to hear it. Was starting to worry you didn’t have a sense of humor at all.” I roll my eyes and we keep arguing playfully as we go. Gaz reports my shots to the team, talking me up while I shake my head, but from then on, he calls me Surgeon. It catches on and the others follow suit, but more often than not, they just call me G.

[pythoria]

In light of the new astarion voice lines in reaction to mizora, I think we finally need to put to rest the whole monogamous vs polyam astarion discourse. Here's the thing. Polyamory is never explicitly discussed or negotiated at any point during the astarion romance. You get individual instances of astarion being okay with various things, like a one night stand with the drows or halsin. It's unclear in the coversation about halsin if he's agreeing to a one night stand or a three-way relationship deal, he just gives you a general go ahead to do whatever you want with halsin because he trusts you. But then halsin doesn't stick around at the end of the game, and by the time he leaves he's only ever been with astarion in the context of the drow orgy (which is optional), and only sexually. Halsin is only interested romantically in the player char from what we're shown. Everyone is free to headcanon otherwise or write whatever fics they want, but as long as we're arguing about canon we have to be very specific. Nothing about any of the conversations with astarion suggest polyamory. They might have suggested a sort of open relationship situation before, but now with mizora, we have proof that there was no negotiation or blanket consent given off screen for having sex with other people, and in fact, it hurts astarion deeply to see his partner engage in sex with someone else.

Now, you can argue it's because he didn't consent to it beforehand, fair enough. Let's walk through what that conversation could've looked like, shall we? If you'd have asked him if you can sleep with mizora, he could've either said yes or no, it's pretty straightforward. From how upset he is, and the fact that he doesn't bring up you not getting his approval beforehand, we can infer his answer would've been "no" (because if he would've said yes anyway, you would get the type of reaction you get with ascended astarion, a "next time invite me" type response). So then, why would astarion say no to mizora specifically, if asked? After all, he's presumably okay with meaningless sex, even when he's not involved, because he lets you sleep with one of the drows all by yourself. And presumably he's also okay with it when feelings are involved, if he's truly okay with the halsin arrangement. So what part of sleeping with mizora is different? Why would he suddenly disagree with it if he was previously okay with similar arrangements?

Here's the thing. Astarion says yes to things out of pressure. Obviously he tells you so himself in act 2, "i didn't know how to say no", and that's corroborated by his dead expression during the drow 4/5some. He says yes to things, hates them, and then depending on how violated he feels afterwards, he decides whether or not it's a forgivable transgression on the part of his partner. He HAS to do it after the fact, because prior to it, he doesn't know how he will feel, he doesn't know if something specific is going to be the thing that tips him over. When he says "i didn't know how to say no" in act 2, it's not just that he instantly knew he didn't want to have sex with tav and went along anyway, it's also that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, and maybe mistakenly believed he could put up with it, until he actually did it. With the drows, the only difference is that he does put up with it, by dissociating. For astarion, something is either too much, or something he can tune out and deal with. He never expresses any "mild" discomfort that you can talk to him about, except for when he's anxious you want to have sex with halsin because he doesn't put out. And even then, there's nothing you can say that will make him disapprove of the halsin thing, short of completely breaking up with him. He voices an insecurity, sure, but even when told that insecurity is legitimate, he still agrees to the halsin situation.

This is why I need everyone to understand, there is no polyam negotiation with astarion, he blanket accepts everything until he snaps, because that's what trauma victims do. I'm not saying this out of a desire to prove astarion is monogamous, either. If the game showed healthy communication about this I wouldn't be here arguing about any of this. Polyamory is valid and can be done in a healthy way, but what you have in the game is not a representation of polyamory, it's a representation of a trauma victim not knowing his own limits and chugging full speed ahead until he snaps. The mizora exchange just cements that further. The roll you have to pass to get him to stay with you isn't "let's discuss boundaries, i didn't know this wasn't allowed", it's "this didn't mean anything". If this man was already okay with meaningless sex on the side, why would you need to convince him of it? All you're doing is manipulating him, and the result of that manipulation isn't even "okay, you can have meaningless sex from now on as long as we talk beforehand", instead, he says he forgives you. There's no implication that this could happen again, if only you have his consent, he just forgives you for this one transgression and agrees to move on. And let me be perfectly clear, I've shipped polyam ships before, I don't have an inherent bias against it. But we all, collectively as a fandom, need to learn to read the room. The signs of discomfort are all there, it doesn't help anyone if we put on horse blinders and ignore them. My only desire is to see astarion interpreted faithfully, not to start or contribute to a war people seem to be having about the validity of polyamory in general or in real life.

So, in conclusion, we need to separate headcanons from canon. Canon is, at best, unclear on what Astarion is comfortable with. It helps no one to act like this is a clear cut issue on either side, but imo it's more harmful to potentially force him into situations he's uncomfortable with than to just let him lead, since he doesn't propose any of these arrangements himself, and never does them for his benefit, only his partner's.

And one last thing. This is not to say "don't do these things because they're bad". They're in the game so you can do them and roleplay however you want. However, we need to be realistic about the kind of characters we're playing. If your tav pressures astarion into these various situations, that's not a good-aligned tav, and that's okay, as long as you're not pretending otherwise. I love an evil durge playthrough as much as the next person, but none of it would be cathartic or fun if the whole time I was under the impression that murder is actually fine and good.

[cafecourage]

I've got another monkey bread order (with the customary side of london fog tea) because I'm indecisive. :)

The chain waking up to find that their s/o has woven flowers into their hair. (Reader had last watch and got bored, what else were they supposed to do? They looked too precious for them to *not,* after all.

- Glitter anon, who has finally figured out how to get the space between the dash and g while not on mobile ✨

I did something different for this post that I seen some people have done.

Link doesn’t tend to sleep during the day. He is a ball of energy even when it doesn’t show, so having him finally sit down and relax was a miracle to say the least. There was a part of you that would like to leave him to his rest but considering he had trapped you under his body. Well a part of you was as his head was resting on your lap. There was a part of you that wanted to braid his hair, which was typically ok. But you couldn’t tell how deep asleep he was. First you pick up some wild flowers that were in reach organizing them a bit. They were small enough that you could do something funny.

So with a light hand and a ton of love, you gently take his hair being mindful of his sleep.

———————————

This wasn’t the first time the Old Man™️ had woken up with flowers in his hair and it really wont be the last time. So he honestly sat up from your embrace not realizing while his hair was now indeed braided, it also had flowers woven through. “Good morning my love.” You said cupping his face admiring your work but also his pretty boy face.

“More like Good Afternoon.” Time said leaning down to kiss you. “Thanking you for doing my hair.” You had to stop yourself from giggling, you really wanted to point out the flowers. But you kept silent. Time, the observant man, noticed your amusement almost immediately. “What did you do-“ he reaches up to feel the soft bumps of the flowers.

“Keep it in?” I asked before he could comment.

There was a pause before he sighs “ok.” He said with a soft smile. “But I have to take them out tonight.”

“Of course!”

_____________________

Twilight can’t really help himself when it comes to cuddling up with you. He liked holding you to much. It didn’t occur to him that you would take this time to mess with him. Granted Twilight’s hair wasn’t long enough but you manage to get some flowers in there. You didn’t expect him to run his hand through his hair ruining all your hard work. “Twi!” You cried as that took you a long time to do!

Honestly he was stunned to see flowers coming from his hair before turning sheepish. “Sorry Darling.” He looked so guilty that you couldn’t stay mad but how dare he use puppy eyes against you!

You could only hold on for so long before you playfully collapse in his arms “fineee I’ll forgive you this time.”

_____________________

The Captain wasn’t used to getting knocked out instantly as he was a light sleepier and the fact he was sleeping in the afternoon instead of training was a miracle. You took advantage of this fully. Though you had made sure to be very careful, even then the captain finally awakens sadly. “Hi darling.” He shifts so he could lean up to kiss you.

“Hi Sleeping beauty.” Even when awake you continue to braid flowers in his hair. “Your hair is soft.”

He hums leaning into your touch “With how long it is I have to take care of it.” He was slowly going back to dream land, “do we have to leave yet?”

“No, I think we have more time go back to sleep.” You didn’t have to convince him further.

_____________________

Sky was a deep sleeper we knew this. Everyone and their mother knew this. So you took your time weaving flowers in his hair. You had taken out a few of the Loftwing feathers and beads in his hair before redoing all of it. Making sure his original hair accessories were now framed with the flowers in his hair.

It honestly took a few hours before he actually woke up. “Ngh…” He shifts finally as he woke up. He look down at your now asleep in his arms. Thats how long it took him to wake up. Sky blinks as he processes that your asleep first before his hair was different. Sky kisses his forehead. “I love you.” He whispers as he silently wishes you only the sweetest of dreams. Some of his now braided hair falls and he finally sees your work. “Oh…” he reached back and gently pull forward more of his hair to see what you done and that only filled his heart more with warmth. He holds you closer nuzzling his face in your hair opting to thank you later and let you relax.

_____________________

Legend barely takes naps. He admittedly refuses to. You don’t know how he did it. But he managed to fall asleep in your arms. Which while cute had put you in a particularly bad position as you wanted to move. Your legs were becoming numb and you didn’t have any more flower to sneak into his hair. It wasn’t until one of the boys (you didn’t bother to look) screamed while wrestling. Which caused Legend to bolt up. You were quick to wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s just the others play fighting.” You soothe him as you could tell the veteran was panicking a bit.

“Wha- oh. Goddess… why.” Bunny boy closed his eyes to take a few moments before flopping back down on you. The flowers now crushed in his hair. Legend grumbles reaching up “did you put flowers in my hair?”

You hummed “yeah…” it was automatic for you to start playing with his hair you slowly take out the crushed flowers. Anything to make Legend to relax again.

____________________

Fairies love Hyrule. Fairies also love flowers. So when they saw you braiding flowers into Hyrule’s unruly hair they had to join in. Honestly at this point you were sure some flowers got onto your hair as the fairies were all around. It took awhile for Hyrule to wake up. But when he does he was slow to fully wake up. Sitting up some of the more loose flowers fall out and on his lap. He stares down at them then at you. “You look pretty.” He mumbled as he reaches to touch some of the flowers in your hair.

“You look handsome yourself.” You said, Hyrule pauses and you can see the math in his head as he processes. He snorts and began to laugh when he finally figures it out. “Hey! I am right!” You giggle with him as you wrap your arms around him.

He kisses your cheek then moves to place on to your forehead. “You’re adorable.”

____________________

Wild doesn’t do well with naps. The boy has to much energy and like a hummingbird you are 50% sure he might die if he stopped moving fully. Though that doesn’t really matter as you had got him to sit still and relax for a few moments. A miracle truly.

It was time to move out and begrudgingly you had to walk the Champion up. “Wild.” You shake his shoulder “it’s time to get up.” He only grumbles as he slowly gets up not even bothered by the flowers in his hair as it always has things inside of it.

“Good morning.” He mumbles as he helps you up standing. You end up not telling him as watching the others debate on it too but also just letting it be.

____________________

You coudn’t see the Minish. As much as you wanted to, but you know this was the Minish’s doing as while you were braiding Four’s hair flowers keep appearing. So it was ether the Minish or some mysterious creature was supplying you with Flowers. At this point you were making a flower crown out of his sash. Just because you could.

“Darling….” Four shifts turning in your lap so he was looking up at you “what are you doing.”

“Playing with you.” You snickered as it was the truth. “Sorry if i woke you up.”

“It’s fine…” He mumbles turning around again “can you take them out?”

You hummed pretending to think about it. “Finnne.”

[blank468]

Describe Bakugo’s development in short words

If you were to ask me how would I describe Bakugo’s development in short words, it would come across as being boring and predictable. Let’s start with the fact that despite being a secondary character, Bakugo has no real purpose/contribution in the main story line. His involvement with Deku and OFA doesn’t amount to anything other than mindless yelling, guilt tripping, and just him treating it as a competition to try and surpass Deku when he unlocks his other quirks. The only reason he’s involved in a lot of what’s going on is because of his popularity. He started gaining popularity when he won the Sports festival and because everyone like the stereotypical angry rival trope. He can be replaced by literally any other character and nothing would change.

It’s basically a pattern whenever Bakugo is involved with something.

- Bakugo will treat others beneath him and continue to call the extras.

- Whatever is going in the story if it’s a fight between the villains or something school related, he’ll treat it as a competition.

- He’ll either verbally attack Deku and everyone around them or get physical to get what he wants.

- Deku won’t see this as an issue and continue to gush over Bakugo about how he’s a good friend and the idea of him being the symbol of victory

-Anyone that calls out his horrible behavior will do a complete 180 and talk about how whatever he said either makes sense or to give some baseless excuse about how he changed

- Aizawa, All Might and or anyone in UA will make some claim about how his some kind of an inspiration for 1A and Bakugo is trying harder than everyone else(completely ignoring all of 1A’s accomplishments and improvements throughout their first year)

- After winning or coming out on top whatever Bakugo will take his win for granted and will act like it doesn’t mean anything while acting aggressive when someone compliments him

- What ever punishment or consequences he gets(not matter how fatal is) will be minor and the story will find to way to have him come out at top without any struggle

- The story will have characters feel bad, guilty for Bakugo for something so minuscule and or try to punish them in a similar manner like Bakugo (A recent example of the story punishing characters because of Bakugo’s actions is in the Card OVA. I didn’t bother watching it because I knew it was just a product plug for training cards but from what I viewed from other people’s discussions, the match between Deku and Bakugo ends with a tie. Apparently Bakugo threw another hissy fit and not only destroyed the card game but blew up the dorm with everyone inside. Instead of punishing Bakugo for destroying public property and potentially injuring his classmates, Aizawa decides to punish all of Class 1A and ban them from playing any other games in the dorm.)

I know everyone has their own interpretation on how they feel about Bakugo and that’s perfectly fine. I don’t have problem if you like him, but Bakugo is written as if everything he did or stood for never mattered. Izuku, Class 1A , UA and by extension Horikoshi, wants the audience to believe that all the positive aspects about his character somehow outweigh the negatives and we’re supposed to accept that Bakugo has fully grown while at the same time instantly forgiving him for being a spiteful and petty bully. No matter what happens to him, he’ll still come out on top as if what he went through wasn’t consequential or lethal. He’s constantly giving wins and random asspulls to favor him despite either doing the bare minimum of his supposed development or not doing anything at all. Bakugo in the eyes of others will always be seen as the true MVP and is the one that always has to win. He’s nothing but a pet under the care of his creator who will go out of his way to make every other character look bad and pathetic than they already are; including the main protagonist.

[thetomorrowshow]

Joel thinks it’s stupid, really.

Once they figure it out.

Soulmates, Grian messages them all. I think it’s soulmates.

Which makes sense, with the random pains shooting through his legs that he feels on occasion. He’s sharing a life with someone—or, three lives—and they feel each others’ pain.

Which is dumb. Because Joel doesn’t need or want a soulmate, and he doesn’t care much for the idea of having to share his life with someone and make sure they’re safe. He’s not here to be babysitting another player.

That’s what he would be doing, he’s sure. Babysitting someone. Not that everyone would be, of course—there are some players that he knows instantly will be paired up, because if such a thing as real soulmates exist, they would be them. Grian and Scar. Scott and Jimmy. Bdubs and Etho.

No one for him.

No one for Joel because he’s always been a loner. For as long as he can remember he’s been on his own in these games—in the first one he had his cottage on the hill (so long ago that he can barely remember what it looked like, he can only remember it burning and the flames licking up at him and melting his skin and the smell of his hair and he has to put it out—), and in the games since, he’s been alone. Alliances that last little more than a week, here and there, and somehow he always ends up at Grian’s side at the end of things, but he’s never actually teamed up with anyone else.

He doesn’t want a soulmate. He doesn’t want another player going through his things, walking through his space, just being near him when he’s angry and needs time alone to cool off.

But there’s a morbid curiosity, he supposes. Because he can’t help but wonder who on earth the universe would think to pair him with.

So every person he sees, he socks in the arm (and if he hits a little harder than is considered friendly, he can blame it on adrenaline).

He actually witnesses a soulmate pair find each other before he finds his own.

And, strangely, it’s Bdubs and Impulse.

For a moment, he thinks that can’t be right—he can envision Bdubs with Etho, or Cleo, but not Impulse. And while Impulse is easygoing enough, Bdubs is a wildcard. Impulse’s sense of order is going to be completely upturned by Bdubs and his harebrained ideals.

Maybe. It’s not like Joel actually knows either of them very well.

And then they’re all mining together, and Etho trips.

And Joel feels his knees sting.

-

Joel doesn’t want to settle down anywhere, at all ever, but after a bunch of fooling around with Grian and Scar (soulmates, just as he’d predicted, of course), he starts. . . .

Not laying down roots. He really ought to get something started, just like everyone else, but that’s just it: everyone else has something started. Everyone else has planted crops and fenced in some animals and set out to get building blocks.

Prime opportunity for raiding some new farms, and to his surprise, Etho absolutely agrees.

For a moment, Joel can forget that they’re linked—he’s just hanging out with a group of friends, laughing at Jimmy, stealing a bit of wheat when nobody’s looking, the norm. Then Etho takes an absurd amount of damage—Joel definitely doesn’t fall back against the crafting table they’ve set up for making armor, definitely doesn’t gasp and clutch at his chest, like he can stop his heart from leaping out of it—and he’s rather rudely reminded that his life isn’t solely his own.

Oh, he hates this already.

Etho calls an apology, but Joel can’t see him through the woods—if they die here and it’s Etho’s fault, he’s never going to forgive him, soulbond or no—so he heads forward, only to find Etho panting beside an enderman in a boat.

“Tricky getting him to walk into it,” Etho says offhandedly, and this could be ender pearls for them if they play their cards right.

Ender pearls are perfect for quick escapes, and if they decide to go with Scar’s absolutely insane plan of trying to take over that outpost, he and Etho are going to need an escape.

He swings with his axe at the angry creature. Easy. Easy pearls, the thing stuck in the boat like a sitting duck.

And then he swings again.

And he hits the boat.

Within seconds, he’s dead.

It’s dark at spawn, and Joel can barely keep from crying in frustration. The enderman had been in the blummin’ boat! All he had to do was hit it a couple of times and they were set!

“I’m so sorry, Etho,” he says, and he hates it. He hates that he has to say that.

He’d been worried about having to babysit another player, keep his lives safe in their hands, but here he is, having stolen a person’s life from them.

He lost Etho their first life, smart Etho who would never mess up killing an enderman in a boat, and now he has to own up to it and live with it.

“I know I messed up first,” Etho says, his eyes crinkling a bit in a way that, combined with the flat tone of his voice, tells Joel he’s definitely frowning. “But I think you messed up way worse there.”

Joel’s familiar with anger—very familiar—but it feels foreign coming from Etho. He ducks his head, runs back through the darkness to wherever it was that they’d died. Something akin to shame is curdling in his stomach, and it’s his fault that they died and Etho’s being weird about it and not yelling, meaning he’s the type to go all cold and calm with anger.

They gather their things from Impulse and Bdubs, then mess around a bit with boats—and maybe he’s just hiding it really well, but Etho doesn’t seem angry, it’s the strangest thing and Joel almost dreads the moment they’re alone together—before joining Grian and Scar on that horribly stupid plan to take over the outpost. It fails, of course, but no one gets seriously hurt and they get to lure a bunch of Pillagers into Bdubs’s stupid little house that he’s building for Impulse.

They hop around for probably a week, never alone, just watching everyone else start on their bases, before they finally set down a couple of chests and furnaces and get to work.

And Etho . . . isn’t mad.

In fact, as Joel starts laying out the foundation for his—their base, Etho comes up beside him, silently surveying, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t blame you for us being Yellow, by the way,” he says casually, and Joel almost chokes on his own spit.

“Sorry, what?”

Etho shrugs. “It was going to happen to one of us at some point,” he says. “And in my eyes? Better you than me, ‘cuz now I get to tease you for it.”

Is that. . . .

Was that a joke?

Etho leaves, and Joel’s left alone with his thoughts and a bunch of wood planks.

He’d thought Etho was boring. He’s always been the quiet, redstone-y kind of guy that Joel can’t stand—not that there’s anything wrong with that! Joel just needs somebody fast-moving, on his level, ready to burn down a building without questions or hesitation.

It’s just one joke. Anyone can make a joke, that doesn’t mean anything about their personality or character. For instance, Joel makes jokes all the time, and he’s a total jerk.

Etho can’t be likable. Sure, he was fine to wander around with for the past couple of days, causing general chaos, but he’s a bore and likes redstone. He won’t be able to keep up with Joel.

But Etho hovers there while he works, occasionally giving little suggestions to the build, and after he wanders off for the afternoon, he comes back with his eyes crinkled over his mask and bragging about some wool farm he’d built.

He doesn’t need help to build this ship. He doesn’t need to depend on anyone to get wool. He especially doesn’t need to depend on Etho, all dry looks and gloating and frowns.

Joel works alone. He always has.

But his indifference to Etho isn’t making him leave, so Joel decides to do what he does best.

Be annoying.

-

“I’m his biggest fan,” Joel boasts to anyone who’ll listen. “You guys know I looove redstone. Just like Etho. He’s perfect.”

Grian gives Scar a look. Scar doesn’t notice.

“We’re very happy—we have a lovely ‘Relation’ship, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re the best pair on the server, actually.”

Scott gives Cleo a look. Cleo does notice.

“Etho’s probably the best at everything in the world. He’s so good at . . . redstone. And . . . all the stuff you do with it. That’s why we’re practically made for each other.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, you sound kind of. . . .” Jimmy trails off, glancing over at Tango for support.

“Like you’re compensating for something? Unhappy? Inadequate?” Tango suggests helpfully.

“A-absolutely untrue!” Joel sputters, then clears his throat and turns away, nose high. “I’m going to get back to working on me and Etho’s perfect ‘Relation’ship, thank you very much.”

“You’re short!” Jimmy calls as parting words. Joel ignores him.

In total opposition to what he’s been spending the past couple of days declaring, once he finishes the bedroom space of the ship, he places his bed and Etho’s bed on opposite sides of the room.

“You stay over there, and I stay over here, all right?” Joel says that night, pointing to their respective beds. “I’m not a cuddler. I don’t like people in my space.”

“But Joel, I thought you were my biggest fan!” Etho wheedles. There’s a glint in those crinkled eyes that tells Joel he’s heard the stuff Joel’s been saying.

Which is frustrating, and immediately takes all the fun out of it. He’d wanted Etho to be mad about his obnoxiousness, to refuse to speak to him, to mock him in return until their partnership inevitably dissolved.

But Etho—his eyes are crinkling, the way they did back when they first died and when he finished the wool farm and then later, when Joel showed him around the ship’s process and he silently nodded before walking off.

“It’s okay, Joel, I know you love me even if you need space,” Etho tells him now, mirth clear in his voice, and Joel realizes that maybe that look isn’t one of anger or disapproval, as he’d first thought. Maybe Etho is . . . smiling.

That’s not good.

It’s not good at all, because if Etho likes him, then Joel. . . .

Joel has to at least try to like him back, doesn’t he? It’s not like he’s the worst guy to be around, after all. He was actually a lot of fun in that first week, running around and stealing and bothering people together.

Maybe he was wrong.

-

As it turns out, when Joel decides he can like Etho, Etho becomes a whole lot more likable.

Etho’s brave—he goes out and enchants his stuff, and Impulse tells the story of them being chased by no less than three Wardens and Etho somehow surviving (Joel’s heart skips a beat in his chest at the most tense moments of the story, and Etho casually slugs his shoulder when he looks up to check his soulmate’s okay). He’s strong—not everyone can just run around the Deep Dark all day in full armor and live to tell the tale.

And he totally gets Joel’s sense of humor. He snorts at Joel’s contrived puns, mocks Martyn’s house relentlessly, finds Jimmy’s failures just as hilarious as they actually are.

Joel can’t remember, in recent memory, ever having someone like this. Someone he actually enjoys the company of, someone whom he appreciates and who appreciates him in turn. Someone to talk to, to listen to—and while Etho is a bit quiet, it’s not because he’s boring and isn’t thinking about anything. Joel thinks he just forgets to speak sometimes, and will gladly talk about anything if Joel asks him to.

Sure, he’s had friends. He’s always gotten along with Grian and Jimmy and, really, everyone on the server, when pressed. But none of them are Etho, exactly.

Which is bad. It’s bad because Joel is getting attached, he’s getting complacent, he’s getting happy—

That’s dangerous. This is a death game.

And maybe all that emotional-friend-love stuff works for the likes of Scott, but that’s just not Joel’s modus operandi. He can’t—he can’t be like that. He can’t get close.

“Redstoners and builders don’t work out together, you know,” he says to Etho early one morning. They’d both risen before the sun, for some reason (anxiety, perhaps, as more players become Yellow and fire proves to be a very useful tool) and had decided, without discussion, to sit in the crow’s nest, legs swinging in the air.

Etho hums quietly in that way that means he’s listening, the way he always does when Joel comes over to bother him. Patient, mellow, waiting to see where he’s going with it.

“Seriously, it never works,” Joel continues. “Their brains are too different. You’d think they’d work well, ‘cuz they cover different bases and all that, but it’s the opposite. They just butt heads all the time. It never works.”

“What about Bdubs and Impulse?”

Joel shrugs. “I mean, they both know a good amount of both, right? That’s different.”

There’s a smile to Etho’s voice when he speaks. “Tango and Jimmy?”

“Only if you’re calling Jimmy a builder,” Joel snorts. “In which case, you’re dead wrong.”

Etho makes a show of thinking—he props his chin up on his hand, taps his finger against his cheek. “Hm. You must be right. I can’t think of any other redstone-builder pairs.”

For some reason, something painful sinks through Joel’s stomach. He swallows it back, lets triumph color his tone. “Exactly. They’re too different.”

Etho drops his hand, lightly elbows Joel in the ribs. “Except for you and me, of course. We’re the exception.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry. He clears his throat. The pain vanishes, healed over with hope, surprise, a desperate need for attention filled—and he can’t even make himself disagree and argue, like he’d intended. Instead, all he can do is repeat it.

“We’re the exception.”

As he goes about his day, he barely even processes his actions—Etho thinks they work well together. Etho thinks they’re a match. Etho likes him, and his company, and his building skills, and his humor, and his bluntness, and everything about him.

And Joel’s really starting to think that he likes everything about Etho as well, as hard as he’d tried not to at the beginning.

They go down to the Deep Dark together the next day, and Joel’s trying very hard to ignore whatever his feelings may be on Etho. They can just—they can just be friends, right?

Friends who install proper stairs, of course. The way down takes forever.

“Creeper, behind you!”

Joel spins around, axe up, ready to defend—nothing. Etho huffs a little (again something now familiar that Joel had once taken to be a sign of disapproval), eyes crinkled almost all the way shut when Joel whips back around to him.

“Just kidding.”

“Oh, you cheeky devil—we need to trust each other,” Joel says, no real anger behind the way he shoves Etho lightly.

His palms seem to burn at the contact.

“I just need to make sure you’ll pay attention to me,” Etho says, and Joel has to wonder for a moment if he’ll ever have the problem of not paying attention to Etho again.

He doesn’t think he’s properly ignored his soulmate once all game, and in recent days, he can’t seem to pay attention to anything but Etho. He feels like he’s constantly thinking of him, wondering whether or not he’ll like the touches on the ship, wondering if he’s safe and who he’s with and if he’ll come home all right.

He hopes, a little enviously, perhaps, that Etho has similar worries.

“I am paying attention,” Joel says, and it’s perhaps the most honest thing he’s ever said, in all the games. “I always pay attention.”

When Etho responds, the mirth feels forced, and for a moment Joel feels almost as if he’s seeing Etho without his mask on. “You won’t ignore me in our ‘Relation’ship?”

“No, no, no. I never do.”

It’s true.

It’s so true, it hurts.

Joel—he doesn’t trust people. He can’t. And he’s sick of having to tell himself it again and again, but this just isn’t meant for him.

And then he forgets about it all, because they go into the Deep Dark and it’s bloody terrifying.

(Well, mostly forgets. Because he does walk behind Etho most of the way through the city and Etho—well. It’s a good angle for him, is all.)

That night, Joel lies in his bed on his side of the ship, and stares at the other side of the room. Etho’s sleeping—he hopes, at least—curled up on his side, a blanket pulled up over his head despite the summer heat.

Etho’s always cold, it’s practically his trademark. He’s always got that coat of his on, and gloves, and a mask.

He doesn’t wear the mask to sleep—Joel’s caught glimpses of his face while getting into bed, but he always looks away quickly—, but Joel has no clue if he wears the rest of his ensemble. Just the covers alone ought to be sweltering. Imagine a coat on top of all of that.

If they shared a bed, Etho would have to do away with that extra blanket. Joel could maybe tolerate a bedsheet, that’s it.

If they shared a—where did that thought come from?

But . . . well, Etho’s asleep. And thought isn’t a crime.

So Joel lies there, staring across the room at his soulmate, and wonders. Wonders about what it feels like to hold Etho in his arms, whether his elbows and knees are as bony as they look. Wonders if his hair is quite long enough to grasp between his fingers. Wonders if he’d still be all smooth words after Joel pulled down his mask, grabbed his jaw, and kissed him on the mouth.

Joel falls asleep a little red in the face, and the next morning when Etho does that silent crinkly-eyed laugh, he can’t help but stare and turn red all over again.

He pushes it out of his mind, and it’s through a feverish haze that he even gets through the week, even as they sneak around looking for sugarcane and messing with Scar and running from a Warden on the surface, of all places. He’s really quite occupied, but none of it quite computes when Etho’s right there, being devilishly handsome with that quirked eyebrow and white hair ruffled by the wind.

And the night after they’ve run from the Warden, Joel comes in a bit later than Etho—he’d been out gathering wheat a bit longer—to find that his soulmate has pushed their beds together.

His brain short-circuits as he blinks at the sight: Etho, one hand on the back of his neck sheepishly; the other still holding the blanket he’d been throwing across both beds.

“Is this all right?” Etho asks. Joel turns his blinking gaze toward him. “I just. I wouldn’t mind a bit of cuddling.”

There’s something in the way his eyebrows raise that tells Joel Etho knows exactly what he’s saying, exactly how Joel feels. The part of him that realizes that, that knows that Etho knows, wants to clap and holler and kiss that sexy man.

The rest of Joel, the main part of him, is trained to survive.

“Sure, whatever,” Joel shrugs, trying to affect an air of nonchalance. Etho can’t know. Etho can never know—and not that Etho can’t know just because he has a crush and it’s awkward, but because liking Etho is a weakness and Joel doesn’t have weaknesses, thank you very much.

And if Etho’s shoulders slump a bit at the response, Joel pretends he doesn’t notice.

And then the problem is, Etho doesn’t stop.

Joel makes it clear that he wants his space in bed, and Etho doesn’t encroach on that. But he does steal bites of Joel’s food, and sling an arm around his shoulder when they’re visiting the others, and boop his nose playfully when Joel starts to get angry at Grian for hoarding the sugarcane, and slowly look him up and down with a wink whenever he gets up for breakfast—

It’s maddening. It’s maddening, and every single night Joel lies there stiff as a board, inches away from Etho, trying to not let his thoughts wander to where they have so many times before.

He’s right there.

Every time Joel gets away on his own, he lets out a short, frustrated scream. And then he jumps off a hill that’s maybe a bit too high, if only to try and get Etho back for his teasing.

-

The fishing rods are possibly the stupidest thing they’ve ever done.

Not surprising, seeing as Grian’s at the head of this whole thing.

But Joel’s never been one for playing things safe, so he stabs the hook through the back of his shirt (he tugs on the line a few times, just to make sure it’s secure), then waits for Grian’s signal.

The first time is thrilling. The first time he flies up into the air, lands hard and laughs from the sheer adrenaline. Then he hooks Pearl, and Pearl hooks Etho, and they go up—

And Joel knows he’s in trouble for a split second before he’s dead on the ground.

He wakes up gasping, and there’s fire in his veins, there’s fire spreading all across his body and he wants—he needs to kill Pearl, needs her blood—

He rolls out of bed, scrambling for his chest and spare stuff, and then he hears someone else roll out of bed with a groan.

Joel turns, and Etho’s there, hungry fire in his eyes, and Joel needs him.

He practically tackles Etho, yanking down his mask—his lips are pink and soft and hot against Joel’s mouth, molten and perfect and everything he needs to stoke the burning inside—

Etho pushes him off (gently, somehow), and holds up a hand. Joel, somehow, manages to hold himself back. Etho’s—Etho’s right there—

Etho takes in a deep breath, and when he looks up, his eyes are crinkled in that perfect way and he’s smiling.

“Took you long enough,” he teases, and Joel lunges for him again.

-

Their next kiss is slower than that.

After they kill Pearl, and the pounding bloodlust in his head has quelled a bit, Joel leads the way back to the ship. He leans against the railing—and Etho leans next to him—and they  kiss.

It’s lazy, Joel thinks he would say. But not lazy in the way he might be with a build—skipping details and panning over mistakes—, lazy in a comfortable, staying-in-bed-late kind of way.

He kisses Etho, lazy and lovely, warm in the evening sun. And he really, really doesn’t care if anyone’s watching.

Let them watch, he thinks, with an almost vicious pleasure. Etho’s mine.

That makes something deep in his chest silently purr, almost, and when he pulls away to breathe, he clears his throat in a contented kind of way (not a growl, not a purr, but the closest he can get without outright embarrassing himself). Etho perks up at the sound.

“I forgot to tell you, I figured out what that sound you make reminds me of,” he says, and even the excited way he speaks sounds lazy and perfect.

Joel clears his throat again���and yeah, he does do it a lot, come to think of it. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Etho sighs a little bit, tips his head onto Joel’s shoulder. “A tiger. Have you ever heard a tiger chuff?”

Joel laughs at that—his soulmate thinks he sounds like a tiger chuffing, and it’s the most stupidly adorable thing ever.

“Why are you laughing?” Etho asks playfully, nudging Joel. Joel doesn’t answer, just chuckles and clears his throat—or, chuffs like a tiger—and plants a kiss on Etho’s head.

“We could go threaten Scar,” Joel offers after a moment. His blood is starting to boil again, and he knows from lonely experience that only violence can scratch the itch.

Well. Probably only violence. He does notice that it’s a decent bit quieter when he’s aggressively kissing Etho.

Etho stands up straight—taller than Joel when he does that, which is blummin’ obnoxious of him—and slowly, gently, lazily kisses Joel. It’s warm and measured, his tongue teasing at Joel’s slightly parted lips, and it seems to Joel that he only pulls away when he’s memorized the feel of Joel’s lips.

“That sounds like a good date,” he murmurs.

Joel grins, and Etho grins back, his eyes all crinkled, and Joel takes off at a run to swing himself over the opposite railing and climb down the ladder.

Etho catches up moments later, mask fixed back on his face, and Joel pulls out his spyglass to check out where the residents of that giant cake-thing are.

They’re right beside it, as it turns out.

“Scar’s holding a flint n’ steel,” Joel warns, shoving his spyglass in his pocket. “He already took down the Ranch, we might want to be careful of that.”

Etho only scoffs. “If the ship burns, everything burns.”

Unsurprisingly, Joel finds he agrees with that—not that he can ever imagine disagreeing with Etho. He nods.

“If the ship burns, everything burns.”

-

And after everything burns, they burn too.

They’re dying, Joel had come through the portal to find lava and pain, and he screams for Etho to turn back but even if he had they’d still be dead—

He doesn’t even have the chance to glance back at his lover before he burns.

He drifts for a little while, the bitter disappointment of his loss somehow distant when compared to the loss of Etho. The next game will start eventually, and when it does, there’s no way of knowing that Etho will even be there. After all, it’s picked up new players and dropped others as time passed. Joel can’t even remember the original line-up, it’s shifted so much and so many times.

When he lands in the next game, he doesn’t even check his comm before punching apart a tree.

The gimmick isn’t soulmates again, he knows instantly. He’d grown so accustomed to the pull in his chest of Etho that it aches now to not feel him.

(Or maybe that’s just his heart. Same difference, really.)

So Joel tries to put Etho out of his mind and move on with his life. They were never meant to last, anyway. That’s the thing about redstoners and builders—they never work out.

He knew that. He knew they never work out, and he tried to do something with Etho, anyway.

It had been fun while it lasted, of course. It had been . . . perfect, even.

But Joel’s always been a loner, and now that he’s got that Green-life clarity, he can go back to it.

He takes down another tree and has a crafting table and some basic tools put together when someone clears their throat behind him.

Joel jumps, spins around—

Etho’s there, leaning lazily against a tree, and—his eyes are crinkled in that way—

“Miss me?” he teases, and Joel barely has time to drop his wooden pick before he’s storming over, pushing Etho against the tree, tearing his mask down—

The kiss is hard and messy, teeth clicking together and lips sliding apart, and when Joel pulls away to gasp in some air, Etho’s cheeks are flushed and lips bruised and he’s still got that blummin’ smile.

“Right,” Joel breathes.

“Wanna build us a house while I go mining?” Etho offers, and forget whatever loser thoughts Joel had been moping about with! He’s got Etho, there’s no need to be on his own anymore.

Maybe they can even win it, this time. After all, they’re together from the start here. No more acting like an idiot about wanting to be alone or whatever.

Joel watches Etho head off into a cave, stone pick hefted over his shoulder, and can’t help the way his heart skips a beat.

Etho’s his, and when everything burns, they burn together.

[wheatnoodle]

this has been rolling around in my head for weeks and i need to at least express it so i can maybe get motivation to write it in more detail LMAO

night shift by lucy dacus but steve getting over nancy and being able to move on.

failed relationships and rebounds because he can’t even kiss someone else without gagging. he’s on first dates with heidi or sara or payton or becca or whoever it is this time that never make it to a second because he probably calls them by her name at some point.

scrolling through old texts and love letters and her social media even though he knows he’s just going to find things to hurt himself more than he already is. he wants to scream out loud what a bitch she is and how much she hurt him, but he resists and instead keeps scrolling. he wants to shout at her and leave before she can respond.

steve keeps finding himself in places where he ends up seeing nancy and jonathan together, happy. you’d think with everyone in the city instead of a small town now, they wouldn’t run into each other so much, but the universe seems to just have it out for him. it’s killing robin seeing him so heartbroken too.

it’s only about two months later when he gets a text from nancy asking to meet for coffee so they can talk, even though it’s 6pm so it won’t be light for long.

but, he agrees and she’s sitting at a table by the window in the corner and she looks…beautiful. like she always has. she looks up when he walks over, standing in what looks like a “going for a hug” pose. she stops though when he seems to hesitate and gives a polite smile, holding out a hand to shake instead.

nancy’s already ordered their drinks and someone places them on the table right when he sits. of course she remembered his order.

“so…” he says, a bit awkward, a lot quiet.

“…so…” she responds, except now she won’t look away from her lap. steve waits for her to say something, anything. maybe an explanation as to why she wanted to see him, why now, why here, what did she need to tell him?

so he waits.

and he waits.

…and he waits…

and she still wont say anything. so he puts down his mug, and he does.

“am i just supposed to sit here and watch you stare at your feet?”

she looks up then, eyes wide like she’s been caught. she looks nervous. it almost makes him feel bad for speaking up.

“steve-“

“what was the plan? to what…absolve your guilt? shake hands again?” she doesn’t respond. steve sighs and shakes his head.

“you cheated on me. that’s just how it is. i feel no need to forgive you, but i might as well, because i just want to move on.”

he doesn’t want to be here anymore. he can’t breathe. they only last a bit longer of light chat before he’s checking his watch (it’s only coming up on 7) and rising from his chair. she does too and asks if she can kiss him one last time. he just pays for his coffee, says a quick goodbye, and leaves just as the sun sets.

steve cant see her anymore. never again. never again. he’s so stuck in his head he doesn’t notice it’s coming on 11pm and he’s been walking the whole time until an owl in a tree has him looking up at the now dark sky and street lights. he’s back home around midnight and instantly has robin wrapped around his middle, rambling about how worried she had been. he went to talk to nancy, then just disappeared for hours. not answering texts, calls.

he tells her about everything. what she had said. how she seems to show up everywhere he goes. she holds him close, his head on her chest as they lay on their couch.

he quits his day job, robin does as well, and they end up working overnight shifts at a bar/restaurant. depending on the night, they’re either bartending or waiting the table in the bar area. they sleep during the day, go out at night.

steve stops bumping into her everywhere he goes. they’re on different schedules now. he’ll never be up to a read a sunday paper with her name on it since he’ll have just gotten into bed after a long shift.

a couple years down the line, there’s a band that starts playing at their bar, every friday and saturday nights.

they play a heavy version of california dreamin’ that suddenly throws steve back to kissing nancy in the backseat of his car to this song when they were in high school. steve needs to excuse himself for a smoke break, needs to calm his nausea and his nerves.

he’s out back for about five minutes when the back door opens. he flinches at the sound and backs against the wall, though the man quickly raises his hands up.

“sorry! didn’t mean to scare you. uh, i was lookin’ for a place to smoke. you mind if i join you?” the man says, an apologetic smile playing on his lips. steve’s brain short circuits at the sight of him. this man is GODLY, bro, okay, he’s HOT. AWOOGA. he’s all wild, dark hair and big brown eyes. a smile that has something wicked and sweet hidden in it. he’s tall too, only about two inches taller than steve, but still.

steve’s eyes catch on the light reflecting off his rings. he knows his cheeks are burning. “yeah, yeah that’s um…yeah, that’s fine.”

“cool,” the man says and lights his cigarette. steve goes back to leaning on the wall and sucking his own cigarette. “so, what’s got a pretty thing like you out here all on your lonesome?”

steve may or may not choke on his smoke a little. “needed some air. started…thinkin’ too much. what about you?”

“also, needed a breather. worked up a hell of a sweat up there.” and then it clicks and steve is smacking himself in the forehead.

“you’re in the band!”

“i am! you’re in the bar!”

“i am!”

and steve learns his name is eddie, and eddie starts coming in more than just fridays and saturdays. he won’t even drink, just get a water and stare at or talk to steve.

it takes almost 9 months before they start dating and another few after that before eddie practically moves in with steve and robin.

and he has never felt more loved. eddie who sings in the shower too loud and gives the crispiest bacon strips to robin. eddie who holds him during movies on the couch and covers steve’s eyes if he knows a scene in a horror movie might be too much, even though robin will narrate the whole thing. eddie who strokes his hair and rubs his back until he falls asleep and brings him everywhere he goes.

and songs that he once dedicated to nancy are now for eddie and all the new ones that come along are all for eddie too.

and he moves on, and he never sees her again.

[doraambrose]

Do you have headcanons about jason? And what are some tropes you dislike? generally.

Hello friend!

I have SO many headcannons

Jason loves classic literature, but also Gothic literature (Frankenstein, Dracula, Wuthering Heights, The turn of the screw, etc.)

He's also a huge Broadway nerd and he loves phantom of the opera and wicked

I like to think he's an average cook. Like not a chef, but he can follow a recipe and it turns out the way it's supposed to

He's got a bad smoking habit, but doesn't vape or get high

He seems like a beer, whiskey drinker, but I could also see him with a glass of wine too

He probably smells like cigarettes, motor oil, and dove shampoo for men or something like that

He loves antique cars and is remodeling one

He probably doesn't have great teeth. They're probably kind of crooked and yellow since he's probably not regular with brushing and flossing, etc. With missions and almost dying a lot

He loves kids and is really great with them

He's snores

He's not conventionally attractive, but kind of rugged. Like fuller lips, a more gaunt face, bigger nose that's kind of crooked from being broken so many times

He keeps a neat apartment, but it's pretty basic in terms of decorations since he's not there a lot

I also like to think he likes to watch hockey and basketball, but more because I like to watch that stuff lol

He's got super rough hands and fingers

He's got a deeper voice than the other robins, but not gotham knights or Jensen ackles level

He's not an outdoors man, not a camping kind of guy

There's probably more I have that I'm not thinking of, but if I do, I'll add to this for sure.

As for tropes I don't like

Jason and Bruce have a functional father son relationship

Jason is reckless and rude

Any batcest

Anything miraculous or danny phantom

Tim is afraid of jason

Jason and Damian are closer than anyone else and damian calls him akhi, etc

Jason is asexual, trans. Etc. (This one doesn't bother me as much, only because I know it's a projection to make him more relatable to the person making the headcannons, who are usually asexual or trans, so you do you but it's not for me)

Jason is Hispanic (this one also varies, but it feels icky when people who are white like me have this headcannon and no real reason to back it up, like the only reason is because he's the only robin from the ghetto)

Jasons favorite color is red (basic, only because he's the redhood but his actual favorite color is green)

Lazarus pit madness making him the hulk with glowing green eyes whenever he gets agitated (I made a previous post going more in depth with this)

Jason instantly forgives everyone including Bruce for everything they've done to him and vice versa

Again, there's probably more I'm not thinking of and if I do, I'll add to it. If you guys have any of your own, add them below!

Thanks for the ask!

[kaeso4ka]

You die, but something keeps keeping you on base… Or is it someone?

Pairing: yandere Optimus Prime x reader

As you entered the main bay of the base, you stretched. It was just the right amount of walking: it was a good time to stretch your legs in the blazing desert sun. It was good that the vultures hadn't swooped down on you, or they might have… You were glad to be alone, though. For some reason no one had come for you, but you could walk to Omega One on your own two feet.

At the base, working at the monitors as usual, you met Ratchet. He didn't pay you any attention, just mumbled something in response to your greeting.

On the couch on the human platform sat Jack, Rafe, and Miko, playing a game of racing. Miko was noisily encouraging Rafe, but he was steadily losing to Jack.

“Hey,” you stood up, clapping Jack on the back, ”having fun?”

All three of them flinched almost synchronously. Rafe even seemed to shriek quietly.

“...What are you guys doing? You've gotten nervous as hell?” you folded your arms across your chest. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“We just... Didn't expect to see you here today,” Jack turned around unhesitatingly, forcing a smile out of himself. “How are you?”

“Better than alive,” your smile came out honest. You really have been feeling lovely since this morning. “Ready to roll mountains. Or neck myself... Whatever.”

Jack didn't have time to answer: the portal vortex interrupted him. The Autobots were returning from their mission.

Bulkhead was the first to arrive at the base, followed by Arcee and Bumblebee... Then, trailing behind, came Prime.

“We did a pretty good job on those Vehicons, didn't we?” Bulkhead chuckled, confirming the words - signals - of Bumblebee. “They were totally weak today.”

“Bumblebee!” Rafe snapped off the couch, almost throwing him against the rail.

Bumblebee sprang to the platform, picking the boy up off of it. The blue optic's gaze fell on you... and then immediately shifted to the backs of Ratchet and Optimus.

“What's wrong with him?” you turned to the approaching Miko. “You're all so weird today.”

“Forgive us,” Miko didn't sound as cheerful as she always did, ”it's a rough day. Maybe you want to rest?”

“I'll rest in the other world,” you shrugged, ”hey Optimus!”

Prime reacted instantly. He stepped away from Ratchet, talking quietly to him until then, and then gently took you in the palm of his hand.

“It's good to see you.”

“You're always good to see me... And actually, we saw each other yesterday. Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you,” already in their compartment, Prime put you on his desk. He took up the datapads himself, “especially now.”

“How could I not?” you settled more comfortably among the monitors, energy cubes, and datapads. “Everyone's so weird today. Decepticons?”

“No,” Optimus shook his helmet, ”it's fine.”

You didn't believe him, of course.

***

“What the hell is going on here...”

You frowned at Ratchet's back. Some time passed, but the situation didn't change. It was as if everyone around you was shunning you, except, of course, Optimus.

June nearly fainted when she saw you; Fowler swore. Not to mention the fact that everyone else was talking to her as if through force.

“Hey, Ratchet. What the fuck is going on here?” you moved determinedly towards the medic.

Ratchet gripped the dentures tighter. He knew you'd ask that question sooner or later... and him, of course.

“You really don't remember? You don't understand?” the mech turned to the organics, examining the stranger's transparent silhouette.

“What am I supposed to remember? It's fine,” you didn't like Ratchet's look.

“How strange. You so wished for your own death, yet you manage to forget it,” Ratchet grinned unfunnily, ”take a closer look at yourself. You're dead.”

Your smile faltered, then disappeared altogether as your gaze lowered to your own body... Through which you could see the interior behind you.

“What the fuck!” you touched your stomach, but your palm fell through it. “How...? When...?”

“A bad conflict with Optimus,” Ratchet dimmed his optics, ”I don't understand why you die, either, and then keep coming here every time like you should. Can't you leave us behind even after your favorite death?”

“I... I don't know. I don't remember or understand anything,” the realization of death flooded the mind, but the pain of the greater realization that you could still for some damn reason understand the reality around you almost got you, ”I don't know what's going on, Ratchet.”

“It's noticeable. I wouldn't be surprised if Prime is keeping you here,” Ratchet waved his manipulator toward the exit, ”that's what. Leave. Find your way to the human Afterlife. Or perish in the fires of the Smelter. I don't care. But don't come here again.”

You nodded. Obediently, she headed for the exit, soon finding herself far beyond Omega One. Its vaults were already behind her, and the endless desert lay ahead....

... until, far ahead, a cliff loomed on the horizon, hiding the Autobot base beneath its vaults.

[ship-ambrosia]

i need to hear all your thoughts on Theon and Theonsa. Please i need the deepest of dives. I’m also obsessed

Hello dear, thanks for the message!! I’m sorry it took me so long to respond, this week was pretty rough at work. I am of course ALWAYS happy to talk about Theonsa.

Delusional, incoherent rambling vibes incoming. You have been warned.

I feel like I have talk ad nauseam about this relationship and all the things I love about it, and if I haven’t mentioned it, I’ve written about it lmao

First of all, I was introduced to this ship by my lesbian best friend. Straight up literally one of the only het ships I can think of that she likes. Theonsa is for the girls and the gays, confirmed. I myself was so shook bcuz they were my favorite characters from the very little of the show that I had watched at that point, so to hear there was ship potential?? I was hooked instantly

Idk about yall but I have the clip of Theon returning to Winterfell and him and Sansa hugging while he’s basically ignoring dany there the whole time saved on my phone and I watch it SO much. Would offer my firstborn child to know what exactly Alfie Allen (and Sophie, but mostly Alfie) was thinking while that was being filmed because that’s the scene that convinced me they were IN LOVE especially that Theon loved her. It’s just the way his eyes flicker to Sansa even when he’s supposed to be addressing his “Queen”.

Honestly I’m a lot more forgiving toward season 8 than most of my friends but the one thing that pisses me off is that everyone leaves sansa alone at the end!! Wtf!!! Anyway if Theon had survived you can’t tell me he wouldn’t have stayed with her. He would have 100% dedicated the rest of his life to being at her side, whether anything came of their love or not. And god one day I need to write a scene of theon and Sansa reuniting immediately after the night king is killed!! Theon exiting the Godswood with Arya and bran and Sansa running over to all three of them!! Ugh my heart. Also, I feel like Dany would be so grief stricken over Jorah and to see Sansa happily reunited with Theon would make her absolutely furious which sounds very interesting to me

Umm what else. I think Theon should’ve gotten to kill his uncle. Why’d that kill go to Jaime? I had this fic idea a while ago where Baelish doesn’t bring the knights of the vale so Jon loses the battle of the bastards and Sansa ends up back with Ramsay but Theon’s already convinced Yara to go north to help (I know Yara would never do it but LET ME HAVE THIS) and then Euron hears his niece and nephew are going north so he decides to go north too. So basically three of the worst men converge at Winterfell to face off basically fighting over Sansa but surprise Theon and Yara break Jon out of prison to rescue her. And yeah Euron’s just like oh I want the Stark girl now because I know my nephew wants her. Then Theon can get to kill Euron or Ramsay or Baelish. Lmao. Most of my fics start as incoherent vibes like that

Uhhh if there’s any else you wanna know about specifically feel free to ask again! That’s about all I can think of right now thanks 🥰

[okchijt]

May I request headcanons about Oka Ruto with male S/O, who is nice and kind with her, but big asshole to everyone else?

Author's Note: Thank you so much Anon for the request! The art is by Reikiwie! The request asks for a male reader and the title also says it, but you can easily read it as gender-neutral as well since I don't think that what I write is that gender-specific to the request to matter. This was also supposed to be posted a month ago, but this is my final year so naturally, school got in the way. So forgive me if this sucks, I tried my best😭 And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you and enjoy!❤

Favorism - Oka Ruto x Male!Reader Headcanons

💀 I think the request says it all when I say you're not a sociable person, at all. You'd rather be alone and everyone in this school is either too annoying or boring.

💀 You have been a new student at Academi High for 4 weeks now and still hadn't found any friends, not that you care though. The only group you've been kind of interested in is the Occult Club, but not to a degree that you'd come up to them and perhaps join them.

💀 But during that 4th week a mysterious, timid, and shy girl with an overall dark appearance shows up and even though she looks basically like the other Occult Club members, there was just something else about her that drew you in.

💀 In order for you to get close to Oka before joining her club would be to learn a few things about her without becoming a stalker. So you'd ask around people that are usually near her or you think would know some facts about her, and by asking around I mean to intimidate or threaten the answers out of them. You'd write everything you've learned in your notebook, surprised to find you two had a lot of similar interests or at least some you wouldn't mind learning about or exploring, and you did.

💀 From there you'd have to wait for the right moment to approach Oka, assuming she already knows about you and your intimidating demeanor, you'd have to approach her in a very friendly and calm manner. You found your opportunity when seeing Oka lingering around her locker scrolling through her phone. You walked past her while glancing at her phone to see her reading one of your favorite Japanese urban legends.

💀 "Satoru-kun, huh? You've got taste Oka."

💀 Excpect to see the most adorable reaction ever, making you fall for her instantly! Oka's face would immediately flush red while covering her face, averting her gaze from you. Oka has seen you around before, but she'd never thought you'd even know of her existence, and you're giving her a positive reaction that she wasn't used to, piquing her interest in you on the spot.

💀 She'd watch you and follow you around the school grounds to learn more about you, not knowing that you were completely aware of her always being behind you, but you didn't mind it. You found it funny and sweet actually.

💀 You became so used to it that you'd forget most of the time she was even there! Which led to Oka witnessing you display your rude behavior to other people. Most would be completely turned off by it, but Oka was intrigued. Your level of assholeary varied depending on who you were talking to, like if a genuinely good person wanted to just say "hi" to you or something you'd be a little bit more gentle with them, still an asshole, but not as bad as if one of the bullies or delinquents wanted something from you, you'd go savage almost instantly. And Oka couldn't help to find it interesting that you'd try to be at least a little bit nice to some, but to her, you were always the sweetest and friendliest person ever.

💀 And by that I mean your personality would do a whole 180 when you were around Oka. You'd greet her every morning when walking into school, hold doors for her, carry stuff for her, protect her if someone tried to hurt her, help with cleaning up, talk to her about The Occult, and Japanese Creepypastas, etc. Which Oka would appreciate all of that! She'd still be very timid and awkward with you, but she obviously likes and trusts you.

💀 After some time though you'd eventually confront Oka about developing your relationship forward, by officially becoming friends and maybe something more in the future. To which Oka would shyly agree to, her face being red the whole time.

💀 From then on you and Oka would start trying to develop the relationship. Oka would eventually become very comfortable with you around and talk way more with you. She's too shy to admit that she honestly secretly likes that you hold special treatment for her and only her. She doesn't know what she has done to deserve it, but she loves it.

💀 You're just so sweet and loving with her it makes your classmates scratch their heads. You are verbally and physically affectionate with each other, you are patient with her, and you never raise your voice at her, reassure her when she needs and generally act like the total opposite to her compared to everyone else. You're like a whole different person with Oka around!

💀 Even though Oka secretly adores the special treatment you give her, she'd try to make a slight effort to make you less of an asshole to everyone else. Like, Oka would just tell you to take it easy or hold onto your arm to make you feel at ease. And it works! You take whatever Oka tells you as law and if she tells you to turn it down you will. You'll only make an effort if it's for her and she knows it. But you both know she'll never exploit you over it either, so compared to everyone else, your guard is always down if it's just you and Oka together.

💀 Days turn into weeks and weeks into months and you have officially succeeded at making Oka fall for you. Oka is a firm believer in the cherry blossom tree legend because she believes there must be some supernatural element to it and stuck a note in your locker to meet her there and confess. You'd obviously accept seeing as this was what you wanted all along and you two would start going out from there.

💀 Even if the two of you have been going out for some time since then, you both would act pretty much the same as before together. You might want to push the relationship forward, like being more intimate with each other, but Oka would not be comfortable with that idea yet and you'd have to wait probably the whole semester if not longer to get to that point but I promise you it's worth it.

💀 The most you two could do right now is hold hands and kiss on the lips or cheek occasionally. Oka is intimidated by intimacy in a way, so hugs are a little bit scary for her, but she'll get over it with time. Verbal affection is also a very foreign thing for Oka. Say anything nice to her, compliment her, or flirt and her whole face goes beet red while stuttering a response while trying to cover her face. Oka is also bad at verbal affection as well, she'd research the ways other couples act around the school or try to copy you so she can say something romantic to you as well only for it to sound really awkward. You still love it though and she tries so that's already enough!

💀 Your dates are the most chill dates ever. You'd mostly have indoor ones, which would involve watching gothic or horror movies and shows or reading Creepypastas together and then discussing them together. The only outdoor dates you'd probably have would be at the park or going to the movies. They may not be super exciting or "fun", but that's the best you're gonna get with Oka. You can go with her or do anything and she'll do it, but generally, she enjoys herself more if it involves her interests or hobbies.

💀 Overall, you and Oka are an odd bunch that no one expected to happen or even work, most people would describe your relationship as "beauty and the beast", which let's face it, it's totally true. As much as unpopular Oka is, people do appreciate her trying to tame you a little, while Oka and the rest of The Occult Club are thankful for you always standing up for them. There's no doubt to anyone that what you and Oka have is special and everyone secretly routes for you two to work long-term, cause your dynamic is just that adorable. And with how things are going, they might be on to something.